


Friends, Cousins, Lovers Series

by Ann_arien



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Drama, F/M, Foursome, Het, Incest, M/M, Slash, Smut, Threesome, Twincest, immortal and the restless, longest sex scene in the history of Arda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 83,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_arien/pseuds/Ann_arien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots connected to one another by a relatively loose plot. Basically, an excuse to sic the House of Fëanor on the House of Fingolfin, sit back and enjoy the exceedingly smutty fireworks.  And with the House of Finarfin thrown in the mix to stir up trouble, we shall have drama and a veritable 'The Immortal and the Restless' scenario on our hands.</p><p>This series was written in 2005/2006 (chapters 1-6), but I have unearthed it, re-written it and am currently expanding it to new and gloriously AU heights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ATAR

**Author's Note:**

> These stories take place at a time when the Silmarils were but a twinkle in their creator's eye and as such, I use the Quenya names of all characters.

The door opened with a barely audible creak, letting in an inflow of cool morning air. Fëanáro's hands stilled their movement and he reminded himself that bells would have to be put on that door and many others, as Carnistir had reached that age where he went everywhere and knew not what might cause him harm. 

The latch clicked shut and Fëanáro’s back stiffened slightly, all of his senses focused on the newcomer. He wondered who else had grown restless and abandoned the sweet arms of slumber for some task or another in the forge, at such an ungodly hour of the morning. But Fëanáro did not turn around to face the silent intruder, who's very soft, _barefoot_ steps closed the distance between them. He remained bent above his work-table, where he had been absently resetting some emeralds into a delicate necklace. A single lamp above him poured light onto the table, strong enough to let Fëanáro see the minuscule details and errors in the piece of jewelry he ran through his fingers. 

The silent visitor had let himself in without knocking or speaking a word of apology for the interruption. Only Nerdanel and his sons were welcome anywhere, anytime and without question, save for the rare occasions when Fëanáro worked on a surprise gift for one of them and would not have them see until he had finished. So, one of his own had trouble resting? Even if he had not recognized the intense gaze at his back and had not sensed that the room had suddenly grown hotter although the forge still slept, Fëanáro knew beyond doubt that his companion was Maitimo.

"Good morning, my son," he said, smiling and relaxing.

"Good morning, Atar. I saw a light in the forge and I presumed I would find you here. I hope I am not interrupting," Maitimo replied, leaning against a work-bench, eyes riveted to the form of his father. The lone light cast long shadows behind Fëanáro, whose simple-clad body obscured what he had been working on before the interruption.

Maitimo saw that his father had tied his hair at the nape of his neck with a strip of cloth and it fell in an uncombed tumble down his back. He wore nondescript clothes, colors blended after much use and wash, and over them Fëanáro had tied the ever-present apron, a habit as deeply ingrained in him as breathing. A pair of soft house shoes completed the plain and mismatched appearance of the High Prince of the Noldor, if one thought of him as such and did not look beyond the fabric that clothed him. But Maitimo knew very well that _nothing_ about his father could ever be plain. 

Appraising Fëanáro with knowing eyes, the young Elf felt himself stirring as he admired his father's broad shoulders, those strong arms and the striking profile he always offered, no matter where Fëanáro was and what he did. As he still leaned over the work-table, he made it easier for Maitimo’s eyes to roam lower and the young Elf smiled, biting his lower lip and willing himself to remain where he stood. But the desire to approach Fëanáro and plaster himself to that living furnace made waiting very difficult for him.

"You are never interrupting, Maitimo," his father said, turning slightly so that Maitimo could see what he was working on. From the corner of his eye he caught his son's tall, lean frame, reclining casually against an empty work-bench. He noticed the loose sleeping pants and shirt, made from silk the color of cream, but there were few creases on the soft, thin fabric. Fëanáro did not miss the fact that his son's fiery hair was unbound and probably uncombed also, falling freely on his shoulders and pooling on the work-bench at his back. Maitimo wore no cloak and was indeed barefoot. Some of the laces of his shirt had come undone and the fabric had slipped on Maitimo's right shoulder, exposing the smooth skin beneath. On a delicate mithril chain hung the fire-flower that Fëanáro had wrought to match Maitimo’s hair and it rested on Maitimo's chest, rising and falling with each breath he took.

Fëanáro would have gladly allowed himself a few moments of reliving the joy and pride he had felt the day his son had come of age and he had given him the pendant. He would have closed his fingers around his own necklace of similar design that he had shown Maitimo that day and never taken off since, but Fëanáro's hands were occupied with the small tool and the unfinished piece of jewelry he was trying to fix. And the enigmatic smile on his son's face did not leave much room for slipping into the realm of memory, either.

"Good. I feared that I would find you engrossed in some complicated project of yours that has wrenched you from sleep and brought you here in the middle of the night," Maitimo answered.

"No, there is no complicated project for me this morning, I'm afraid. You know I have not been visited by such inspiration of late," Fëanáro sighed.

"I should not be saying it, but I am secretly pleased with that. You have spent more time with us and we have enjoyed every minute in your company," Maitimo said with a loving smile. "But I can also see you growing frustrated and I would rather you were content with working on something new and extraordinary, than getting bored by the lack of something to keep your mind occupied," he added.

"Ah, my son... If you are suggesting that I could ever grow tired of spending time with my wonderful family, then think better of it. I fear it is the other way around and _I_ am the one whom you might be growing tired of. No, no, before you say anything, I have seen how restless Macalaurë is when I ask him to let me hear him practicing. Or how flustered young Findekáno becomes when I join the two of you for his lessons," Fëanáro said, absentmindedly correcting a small flaw in the setting of an emerald, not having put aside the small tool and the necklace while speaking.

Maitimo stifled a chuckle and resorted to clearing his throat, thus pointing out that his father had forgotten to mention something.

"Yes, Maitimo, I know. I have also become a distraction to you during your lessons," Fëanáro added with a feigned sigh.

The young Elf laughed, satisfied but not without further challenge.

"You are indeed guilty of that, Atar," he said, honey in his voice.

"Which means that I must have an idea, some sort of revelation which would bring me back to work and away from my easily distracted family members," Fëanáro answered, lips quirking into a meaningful grin.

"Is that why you have denied yourself sleep this night and you have come here to tweak on some trinkets?" Maitimo asked.

"No, I did not deny myself sleep. Your little brother did, waking me up with his wails. I swear, Maitimo, I am beginning to truly fear Carnistir's nightmares. I believed that he is plagued only by childhood fears, but no child in the Blessed Realm would dream such awful things so often."

The was much concern in Fëanáro's voice and Maitimo knew full well that his little brother was haunted by dark dreams and visions which had chilled him to the bone, upon hearing the few words that the little one had ever spoken about them. Soothing the poor child was not enough anymore.

"Perhaps we should speak to grandfather about this. He might know more of such things or, at least, someone who can help."

"I have been thinking about it, too. It's terrible to be a father and find yourself helpless while your child is suffering," Fëanáro said, a pained look on his face as he finally abandoned his work and turned to meet Maitimo's eyes.

"It is no easier to be his brother and have no means of protecting Carnistir. Does he rest now?" Maitimo voiced his own concern.

"He does. I have left him sleeping in his little bed, but I could not go back and rest. So I came here to busy my hands and let my mind wander," a small smile ghosted over Fëanáro’s face.

"What are you working on?" Maitimo rushed to change the subject, unwilling to let Fëanáro worry about anything. It was not what he had come to the forge for...

"Ah, just a piece of jewelry one of the apprentices has left on my work-table yesterday," Fëanáro shrugged. "I was fixing the setting for some of the gems."

"So it is faulty, then..."

"Parts of it are," Fëanáro said, rather intrigued by the look on his son's face. Maitimo appeared to know something, but not the way to express it.

"Which one of the apprentices left it?"

"The dark-haired one, with those strange black eyes. She has gone to visit her family and asked me to take a look at her work for when she returns. Why?" Fëanáro inquired.

"Well... she has been leaving faulty work for you to mend quite often, think you not?"

Fëanáro frowned, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Yes, she has," he said, recalling all the things he had mended and all the lectures he had delivered to said apprentice.

"It is strange, since the girl struck me as very talented and skilled," Maitimo continued, hinting rather than openly speaking his mind.

"She _is_ skilled and talented. I would not have admitted her to work with me otherwise. And it does surprise me that the quality of her projects is far from what it used to be. Perhaps the girl has some problems or she is distracted by something... In any case, thank you for pointing this out. I will speak to her when she returns and find out what the matter is," Fëanáro finished, surprised by Maitimo's expression.

The young Elf shook his head and cast his father a sympathetic look, amused by Fëanáro’s endearing cluelessness.

"You truly are oblivious, then," he said, wincing at the indignant look his words earned him.

"What do you mean? Speak, Maitimo. I am in no mood for riddles and hints," Fëanáro demanded.

"All right, but I thought you had realized this. I believe your apprentice is faulting her work on purpose, so she can get more of your attention," Maitimo replied.

"But that is foolish! Would she not earn more attention and praise if she worked to the measure of her talent? I do not understand why she would lessen her skill and what she believes she could gain from it," Fëanáro said, shaking his head and wondering what was truly going on behind his oblivious back.

"I do not see what her gain from this might be, but I do see that she seeks your attention and your company as often as possible. Even if it means she has to cast her eyes downward in mock-shame and listen to you scolding her," Maitimo finally let his suspicions out, waving a hand in a gesture of displeasure.

"So you are saying that this foolish girl is pretending... just to spend more time with me?" Fëanáro muttered.

As it dawned upon him, the thought that the young apprentice had become enamored of him caused his eyes to widen and alarm to spread through him. "Maitimo, please believe me when I tell you that I had no knowledge of this and if I have encouraged her reckless behavior, it was not my intention and I wish I had not done so. It pleases me not at all to hear your suspicions and realize that you are right."

"I know you have not been aware of it, Atar," Maitimo said, in a smooth, placating voice, upon seeing his father's discomfort. "You are too busy and too trusting to notice such things. I am sorry that this upsets you so much and worry not, I do not doubt that you have not encouraged the girl in any of her foolish hopes."

"Still, it angers me, Maitimo. I must look like a vain or gullible fool in the eyes of the other apprentices. I have to wonder what your mother might be thinking of me, if she is also aware, though she has not spoken a word."

"Now you worry too much. Amil knows nothing of this. And your other students are more than likely absorbed by their work. At the very worst, they are pleased to see one of their most skilled co-workers receiving less praise. And the girl is, or rather _was_ , subtle," Maitimo tried to ease his father's growing anger.

"Yet it has not escaped you eye," Fëanáro quickly pointed out.

"It is my job to notice such things, Atar," Maitimo replied, with a none-too-innocent grin.

"Your job...? Maitimo, sometimes you make me wonder which one of us is the father and which one the son," Fëanáro said, averting his eyes and knowing that he should have felt at least a modicum of embarrassment for it.

"You are my father, of course. And, as your son, it is my duty to look after you. But you are also _much more_ than my father. Thus, it should not surprise you that my vigilance never falters," Maitimo said, his smile growing.

Had the light been brighter and had Fëanáro not sat with his back to it, hints of color and heat might have been spotted on his cheeks. He smiled fondly.

"And I am thankful, beloved. For all the age difference between us and the advantage of experience I should have on you, I swear you are the wiser and more perceptive of us."

 _'You have not that many years on me, Atar...And sometimes you hardly show it,'_ Maitimo thought, while looking at Fëanáro's fair, youthful features, the slight blush he sensed more than he saw making his father all the more appealing.

"I am none of those things, Atar. If you had more time and if you were less passionate and involved in your work, you would surely see all the little things that escape your attention now. But I would not have it any other way, because you have a gift that should not be wasted by worrying over inane things like an apprentice having a crush on you."

"That might be so, Nelyo. But still... I have to talk to this young woman and set things straight. It disappoints me very much, that she has used her work in such an insidious manner. I will put her back in her place and make it clear that I do not have and will not have any interest of the kind," Fëanáro said, becoming frustrated with the situation once more.

"Having a serious conversation with her is certainly necessary. But try not to hurt the young woman. She remains a valuable jewelsmith and it would be a pity to see her talent go to waste if she decides to quit the apprenticeship. Or worse, if you dismiss her," Maitimo said calmly, sincerely wishing that his father would not be too harsh on the poor girl who simply didn't know better.

"That's easy for you to say...," Fëanáro retorted. "You are not the one in this awkward position. Nelyo, outside your mother… and most times even concerning her, I can honestly say I know nothing about women. _You_ talk to the apprentice, my son. You are more sedate and polite. Besides, you seem to have a way of dealing with maidens that always gets you out of trouble," Fëanáro pleaded.

'Yes... That would be why I am standing here, in your forge, in naught but these flimsy clothes, trying with all my might not to pounce on you, father.' Maitimo grumbled to himself. But to Fëanáro, he only shook his head and refused the plea.

"I will do no such thing. It must come from you. She might very well dismiss my opinion and advice, on the very basis that I am your son and, therefore, unwilling to allow anyone come near my father, save mother, of course."

 _'And myself...'_ he added silently. 

The older Elf's shoulders slumped and he sighed in defeat.

"Very well. You undo me with your logic, as always, Nelyo..."

 _'Only with my logic?!'_ Maitimo nearly asked, but thought better of it and kept his tongue, allowing Fëanáro to continue.

"I will not have anyone say that Fëanáro Curufinwë has not the courage to talk to his confused apprentice."

Suppressing a chuckle, Maitimo answered.

"'Tis not courage that you are lacking, but the heart to be cruel to this poor girl and uproot whatever feelings for you might have grown in her heart. But you are a gifted speaker, Atar, and I have faith that you will handle this in a way that will not cause her much humiliation and your loss of respect for each other. Just remember, when you want to have a word with her, that she cannot be blamed for loving you. Indeed, who can be blamed for this when it is impossible _not_ to love you?" Maitimo finished, the warmest and most affectionate of smiles lighting his face.

Fëanáro could not hear such things and not be moved. He grasped the edge of the table with unsteady hands and his expression spoke of all the love he felt for the incredible being in front of him, that he had been blessed with not only as a father, but also as a confidant and as a lover.

"I love you, Maitimo...," he murmured. "I love you so much and here you are, saying such things that make me wonder if I truly deserve you."

"Ai, Atar! You _do_ deserve me. I love you also and I hope that I will be doing more than just declaring it," Maitimo answered, a challenging smile tugging his lips. 

For an instant Fëanáro just stared, mouth hanging open. Then, he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to one side, shooting his son a questioning look.

"My dear Nelyo... exactly what are you doing here, in naught but your sleepwear, so early in the morning?" he inquired.

"Well, you see... I was sleeping peacefully and then I suddenly woke up, feeling this urge to come here and do some... hammering," Maitimo offered with a mock-innocent smile.

At that, Fëanáro threw his head back and laughed loudly, bringing the whole room alive with it.

"Nelyo... Nelyo, you are killing me!" he said, between gasps for breath.

"Well...are you up for some hammering?" Maitimo said, with an almost straight face.

"What do you think?" Fëanáro replied, tugging the ties of his apron loose. "Do you even have to ask?" he continued, letting the article of clothing drop to the floor, after pulling it from around his neck. He moved in Maitimo's direction, but passed him by, heading for the door. He only paused there to lock it and then he turned around.

His expression had turned predatory and Fëanáro's eyes were aflame with desire as he closed the distance that separated him from Maitimo. The young Elf faced his father and allowed his eyes to roam all over the other's body, avidly taking in every detail. He shuddered and a wave of lust bathed his senses, as he watched Fëanáro untying the cloth that had held his hair back and shaking his head, letting the rich, dark tresses fall freely and frame his exquisite face.

"Come to me..." he whispered, reaching out for Fëanáro and pulling him in a tight embrace, as they shared the first of many fierce kisses.

Lack of breath and the arousal that spread through them like a flood had both their heads spinning within moments. Crushed against each other, their hands roamed over unwanted fabric, seeking and craving to touch the heat beneath.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Fëanáro searched Maitimo's eyes, igniting a blaze in their pewter depths. Maitimo's nostrils flared as he breathed the electrifying scent that was his father. He had been soothed by it in Fëanáro's safe embrace as a child, but it set him aflame like little else could, in moments of passion like the ones they were sharing in the dim light of the forge. He took in Fëanáro's adoring expression with the effect of a powerful drug, so good, and yet so dangerous and so addictive.

They stood at the same height and it would not be long before Maitimo would tower over his father and the rest of his family. But, for the time being, they faced each other, eye to eye, noses almost touching and lips parted as each drew in the other's familiar scent. Maitimo raised his hands from the small of Fëanáro's back, where he had pressed his father closer, during their heated kiss, and placed his palms on the sides of Fëanáro's head, feeling the satiny touch of his hair beneath his fingers.

"I have missed you...," Maitimo whispered, letting his hands wander slowly over Fëanáro's features. The elder Elf closed his eyes and sighed, shivers running through him, as Maitimo traced his brows, his cheeks, his jaw. The young Elf ran his thumbs over his father's lips, resisting the urge to crush them in a possessive kiss and then, his fingers traveled up the shells of Fëanáro's ears, in a feathery caress that had Fëanáro groaning. When Maitimo began stroking the sensitive tips, he was rewarded with a low hum that reverberated through Fëanáro's entire body.

"And I have missed you, Maitimo," Fëanáro purred, opening his eyes just a fraction and leaning against Maitimo's body, as he received the maddening caresses. He could see the avid interest that Maitimo studied his reactions with, biting his lower lip and smirking... _like a wicked tormentor with his newest toy_ , Fëanáro told himself. Somehow, that thought was so arousing that Fëanáro felt a strong surge of desire filling him to the tips of his fingers and toes. He let his hands wander beneath Maitimo's night-shirt, feeling the smooth skin heating under his caress. His fingers dug into Maitimo's back, pressing the young Elf flush against him, and through obstructive fabric, Fëanáro could feel Maitimo growing just as hard and eager.

"So, you have come here to seduce me?" Fëanáro inquired.

"Is it working?" Maitimo replied, grinning. But he closed his eyes and gasped when he felt Fëanáro grinding against him. "I see...," the young Elf murmured, giving into temptation and claiming Fëanáro's mouth once more. They explored each other with insatiable hunger, senses flooded by such intoxicating closeness.

Moving his hands lower, over Maitimo's tense buttocks and thighs, Fëanáro lifted his son, wrapping his long legs around his waist. He did so with seemingly little effort, leaving no doubt as to the amount of strength he possessed. Arms wrapped around his father's neck, Maitimo lowered his head and peppered kisses all over Fëanáro’s upturned face, merely brushing the mouth that sought to capture his.

Only a step forward and they found the work-bench that Maitimo had reclined against. Fëanáro gently placed his son on the polished surface, but he did not break free of the embrace that pressed their loins together in such delicious heat.

"You asked me if I was up for some hammering, my beautiful son," Fëanáro said, looking up to meet Maitimo's eyes and unlacing his shirt as he spoke. 

"Mmmhmm...," the young Elf purred, trying to maintain eye contact even when Fëanáro's fingers brushed against his pebbled nipples and then traveled lower, over the taut muscles of his abdomen. 

"When is a smith not up for some hammering?" Fëanáro asked with a sly grin. The laces of Maitimo's shirt had finally come undone and Fëanáro slid the fabric over Maitimo's shoulders, tossing the shirt away.

"It was a rhetorical question, Atar. I would have pounced on you regardless of your answer," Maitimo declared confidently and yelped immediately after, when Fëanáro's lips and teeth closed around one of his nipples, teasing him without pity. He clenched his teeth and tried not to cry out too loud, as Fëanáro's mouth and hands did a quick job of having him nearly undone. 

Maitimo willed his fingers to function and remove his father's shirt, but he could not focus on the task, too swept away by the sensations evoked in him by the relentless caresses. As his resolve melted, he tangled his fingers in Fëanáro's hair, letting him torture his senses even further.

Fëanáro took his time worshiping his son's body with hands and mouth, slowly traveling toward the throbbing erection that he could feel through Maitimo's inconsequential clothing. His own body responded strongly to Maitimo's moans and whimpers, signaling a need that would soon demand to be fulfilled. He let out a hiss of satisfaction when he untied Maitimo's pants, allowing his flushed hardness to stand at attention.

Slowly, Fëanáro raised his head, peering upward and grinning, as he saw Maitimo's face. The young Elf’s eyes were riveted to the intoxicating sight, pupils blown as he watched Fëanáro and breathlessly waited for wet bliss to envelop his straining erection.

Shaking his head, Fëanáro chose to rise and ignore his son's plaintive whimper.

"I am tempted, my love, believe me," he said. "But I need to have you. I want us to climax together while I am buried deep inside you," Fëanáro continued, his voice growing huskier with every word.

Maitimo nodded eagerly, swallowing hard. His eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back, when Fëanáro began stroking his length slowly and massaged the glistening tip with his thumb.

"You... are... too dressed!" the young Elf hissed, his hips moving upward to meet the hand that poured such pleasure in him.

Fëanáro used his free hand to unlace his shirt and he reluctantly ceased caressing Maitimo, when he realized that his son was losing himself to pleasure too soon. He removed his shirt, placing it on the table he had been previously working at.

Regaining some measure of control over his raging senses, Maitimo slid off the work-table, kicked off his pants and remained standing, oblivious to the cold floor beneath his bare feet.

When Fëanáro turned around and saw him, he remained motionless for several moments, smitten by the unbelievable beauty of the Elf before him. 

"You are so incredibly beautiful, my Maitimo... So fair and arousing that it _aches_ ," Fëanáro whispered almost reverently.

Maitimo's heart fluttered and he felt the visceral need to crush his father in an embrace that would never end. 

"This beauty is your doing, Atar. Your creation. And all of it belongs to you," he said huskily.

The intensity of the exchange put both Elves in motion. Fëanáro shook himself of the enchantment and searched for his cloak. He gave it to Maitimo who folded it and placed it on the wooden table beneath him. Then, Fëanáro stopped and wondered what they could use for lubrication, chuckling throatily when Maitimo said "Top shelf, to your right, behind the box of nails."

He located the small vial and returned to Maitimo's side, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"What…? I put it there, yes. For emergencies only," Maitimo shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world to hide a vial of massage oil in his father's forge.

"Whatever you say...," Fëanáro muttered, knowing that he should cease being surprised by such things. He unlaced his own pants, freeing his throbbing member and letting the soft fabric slide down to his knees. Positioning himself in front of Maitimo, he handed him the vial.

"Would you do it for me, my naughty one?" he asked.

The answer came swiftly, accompanied by Fëanáro's groan, as he shuddered when his engorged length was enveloped in slick heat. He only allowed a few strokes before removing Maitimo's hand. Their fingers entwined and their palms rubbed against each other, slick with scented oil. Fëanáro slipped his hands beneath Maitimo's buttocks, urging him to sit back and spread his legs further. He moaned in tandem with Maitimo, while his fingers circled and stroked and dipped in a series of languid thrusts that pushed Maitimo’s need to new heights. Then, Fëanáro took himself in hand and plunged in a fluid motion, holding his breath and remaining completely still.

Maitimo bit his lip hard, drawing blood and trying to muffle the scream that erupted in him when he felt himself breached, stretched and so utterly filled. He arched his back and a fine sheen of sweat broke out all over his body. He drew in shallow breaths, willing his body to relax and take in all that searing fire. Then, with a shuddering moan, Maitimo rolled his hips and moved slowly onto the hot shaft that impaled him so exquisitely. Fëanáro’s hand on his length stroked him quickly, sending sharp spikes of pleasure through the screaming of strained muscles.

Gritting his teeth, Fëanáro waited for his son to take the initiative, unwilling to cause him any further discomfort. But his resolve shattered when Maitimo's movement grew bolder and the unbearable heat slid over him like a clenched fist. He leaned over Maitimo, seeking his lips and kissing him roughly.

Rocking into each other, they set free their passion. Maitimo dragged his nails over Fëanáro's back, clutching him with bruising fingers and tugging his hair in wordless pleas for more. His hands slid over the fine sheen of perspiration that gave his father an otherworldly glow and found his hardened nipples, rubbing them hard. Fëanáro groaned and bucked into him wildly, pressing Maitimo’s legs further apart by sheer force of his thrusts.

 _‘Mine!_ ’ those blazing eyes shone possessively, even half-closed. _‘Mine!’_ the mouth that plundered his screamed wordlessly against Maitimo’s lips. _‘Mine!’_ the battering ram plunged into him and touched him so deep that Maitimo broke into a keening cry, slipping into the searing madness of complete surrender. The fire was on him and in him and he writhed like a wild thing that would not be restrained, hurtling toward the abyss with blinding speed. And still that pulsing rod pushed, pressing him harder on the inside than his father’s hand milked his throbbing length.

Tottering on the brink, Fëanáro dipped his head and bit Maitimo's shoulder hard, making him scream and muffling his own cry of need. He laved the wound with lips and tongue, whispering brokenly of love and possession and beneath him, Maitimo strained helplessly.

"Mean…!" Maitimo panted, throwing back his head and baring the irresistible column of his neck. Fëanáro laughed, a low, sensual sound that filled the young Elf's ears and throbbed inside him as well. Fëanáro bit him again, his neck this time, sucking on the angry mark and flicking his tongue over the fluttering pulse point.

"Ai, Atar! That one is going to show...," Maitimo cried. He took hold of his father's head and brought their lips together, attempting to keep Fëanáro from leaving more painful marks.

But their bodies did not allow a longer interlude and lust took over completely, pushing them into a frantic pace. They grunted and panted and muffled each other’s cries in savage kisses as the coupling grew violent and still it was not enough. But cords of creamy fluid suddenly shot out between them and Maitimo fell apart, babbling something as he shattered, still sliding over the work-table. 

It was not gentle love making as his father drove into him in a furry, fingers digging into his slippery hips and slamming him back onto his length. But moments later, the fire-brand grew impossibly hot and burst into the clenching passage, as Maitimo twitched with aftershock. On some faraway plane of existence, where their bodies were grounded and grinding into one another still, there may have been movement, but Fëanáro’s head fell forward and a curtain of dark strands stuck to Maitimo’s flushed skin as they both soared through orgasmic bliss. 

Forehead resting above Maitimo’s pounding heart and breathing hotly onto the damp skin, Fëanáro closed his eyes and immersed himself fully into the bond between them. He had claimed but been claimed also and it felt so exquisitely right that he wished he would never have to surface. Skin on skin, breathing and tasting and _living_ each other's ecstasy, they felt a fire far stronger than that of the forge merging them into one.

In the pallid light, their entwined bodies glowed, sweaty and disheveled. But far brighter than that, they burned with kindred flames that sang joyously inside bodies growing lax with exertion. Maitimo rested his head against the wall behind him, propped on his elbows, eyes closed and mouth open, drawing in gulps of air. Fëanáro was also panting, his damp forehead pressed into the crook of Maitimo's neck. The muscles in his arms quivered with the effort Fëanáro exerted to keep himself from collapsing atop of his son.

A few moments of silence passed, as they both struggled to breathe and waited for their heads to stop spinning. When he felt his legs strong enough to support him, Fëanáro rose haltingly, pulling Maitimo up and wrapping his arms around him. The young Elf returned the embrace, crossing boneless legs around Fëanáro's waist and clutching his father’s head against his chest. He rested his chin on the top of Fëanáro’s head and began combing his long fingers through the dark tresses. They basked in the enjoyment of nearness as pleasure abated, letting the warmth of their love wash over their sated bodies.

"Thank you, beloved. Thank you for giving me this," Fëanáro murmured, inhaling deeply and pressing tender kisses wherever his mouth could reach. 

"Thank you for giving me _everything_ ," Maitimo answered, tightening his hold. "And know that I shall never tire of it. Even now, pleased as I am, I want more," he added, his breath hitching when soft caresses and warm breath ghosted over the mark Fëanáro had left on his neck.

"Nelyo... What am I going to do with you?" Fëanáro shivered. _‘And what am I going to do without you?’_ he wondered, but did not voice the words, choosing to banish the question to a distant corner of his mind as he knew that he did not want it answered. Not yet... He sighed and drew his head back, cupping Maitimo’s cheek and tracing those luscious, love-bitten lips with his thumb.

 _'How I would sink my teeth into you and hear you scream...'_ Maitimo thought and then grinned at his own viciousness, clamping his teeth on Fëanáro’s thumb. He saw and felt the response and Fëanáro clutched his shoulders, pushing him at arm’s length even as below, their bodies were still joined.

"Stop," Fëanáro asked feebly. "Nelyo... we can't. It's late and the others will wake soon."

"I know," Maitimo said, batting the arms away and pulling his father closer. "But that does not make me want it any less...," he crooned between lavish kisses, savoring the metallic and slightly salty taste that was Fëanáro. His wandering hands slipped lower, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his father’s hips.

"Nelyo!" his father chided, shaking his head and carefully extricating himself from the enticing embrace. He was half-hard again and wanting precisely what his wicked son suggested, but he had not been gentle and rutting frantically again would leave Maitimo unable to walk straight for days. "Don't play like this when you know that we have no more time."

"Hmph!" Maitimo huffed, rolling his eyes and blowing away a strand of coppery hair that had fallen on his cheek. "All right," he said and began to stretch, humming and purring like a satisfied cat.

Fëanáro covered his face with one hand and growled, hastily pulling his breeches up and putting some distance between himself and temptation. "Do I have to throw a bucket of cold water on you, my sweet?" he inquired while going to the wash basin beside the door.

"Only if you let me return the favor," Maitimo quipped. 

"Right," Fëanáro muttered, cleaning himself hastily and tying the laces of his pants before he could change his mind. He poured clear, icy water over a soft cloth and bit back a wicked grin as he returned to Maitimo's side. The young Elf lay back on the table, dangling his legs and looking absolutely innocent, despite his nudity and what they had done just moments before.

"May I?" Fëanáro asked, pointing to the cloth in his hand. When Maitimo nodded, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against his son's. "It's cold...," he said and his mouth twisted into a grin as Maitimo yelped and pushed his hands away roughly.

"Atar!" he hissed, glaring at Fëanáro.

"It was just as cold for me too...," Fëanáro shrugged, still grinning widely.

"Give me that!" Maitimo grabbed the cloth and bounced off the table. "Can you get my clothes?"

"Oh, you mean these flimsy excuses for clothing?" Fëanáro asked, collecting the shirt and pants from where they had previously been discarded. "What were you thinking, getting out of the house in naught but these?" the elder Elf continued teasing his son.

"I don't recall hearing any complaints a few minutes ago," Maitimo replied. He took the shirt and put it on, starting to lace it. "Mmm... I'm surprised this is not all torn up," he mused, looking at Fëanáro from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, are you?" 

"I am surprised I can use them again and not have to invent some idiotic explanation for how I ripped them," Maitimo answered, slipping the pants on quickly and wincing as his whole lower body protested against such movement.

"Well, forgive me, but I remember at least two of my best tunics being torn beyond repair not so long ago," Fëanáro retorted.

"That is all your fault. Who made you come to my rooms dressed like that, and looking so good that I could not but tear everything off you? Hmm? And then you blamed it on Turko's dog!" Maitimo laughed, hands on his hips and head cocked as he beamed at his father.

"You arrogant brat!" Fëanáro muttered, crossing his arms over his bare chest and feigning indignation rather poorly.

"You spoil me too much," Maitimo replied, going to retrieve his father's shirt. As Fëanáro huffed and made to grab him, he tossed the item at his father and ducked, heading for the opposite side of the spacious room.

"Get back here, you!" Fëanáro called after him, but slipped his shirt on, just to be safe. 

"I thought you said we have no time for that!"

"Gods, you are right, I spoil you too much. Now get over here and quit this foolish behavior."

"All right, but don't try anything funny... Like biting!" Maitimo said, rubbing his neck and wincing when his fingers found the bruise blooming on his skin.

"Nothing funny, I promise," Fëanáro snickered. He embraced Maitimo and kissed the tip of his nose, attempting to comb the tangles out of Maitimo's hair. "Let me see that bite."

Maitimo rested his hands on his father's hips and tossed his head to the side, allowing Fëanáro to look at his own work. 

"Ouch!" his father hissed, seeing the teeth marks. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. I shall have to wear a high-collared tunic today and even that might not cover it. Give me your word that you won't snicker or say a word if Macalaurë makes fun of me today," Maitimo said.

"I will try...," came the evasive answer, but Fëanáro quickly added "All right, you have my word," when he met Maitimo's withering glare.

"I will have my retribution for this, you know," Maitimo promised him.

"You will…?"

"Yes. Right there, on your work-table, when you least expect it," Maitimo answered and fought back a chuckle when he saw his father's eyes narrow. "That's right... so put that vial back on the shelf and beware," he finished, his eyes gleaming with mirth.

"Thank you... for the warning," Fëanáro nodded sagely, before breaking into laughter. "I have raised a wicked, insatiable demon!" he said, shaking his head in wonder.

"I wonder in who's liking you've raised this demon?" 

"Fair enough. Just put on a cloak before you wander over here in revealing outfits again. Now you'll have to run back to the house and sneak to your rooms shivering," Fëanáro said, fondly caressing Maitimo's cheek.

"I'll remember that. You should come back to the house, too. I'm hungry and it's your turn to make breakfast."

"Oooh, now you truly sound like a spoiled brat. I'll be there after tidying up this place. I cannot leave it like this for when the apprentices come to work," Fëanáro said, watching a wicked grin spread on his son’s fair face. "What…?" 

"Nothing...," the young Elf quipped.

"Nothing? Arrrg, nevermind!" Fëanáro groaned.

"Would you like me to run you a bath?" Maitimo asked. "Alone...," he added, seeing the look his father cast him.

"That would be nice. Thank you."

"I have lessons with Findekáno after breakfast. Will you be joining us?" Maitimo inquired, stepping out of Fëanáro's embrace and preparing to leave.

"No. I don't think it will help either of you," Fëanáro answered, lacing his shirt and watching Maitimo closely as the young Elf headed for the door. His eyes held nothing more than warmth and concern as he called after his son in a smooth voice. "Nelyo... your cousin is growing up into a fine young Elf, don't you think?"

Intrigued by the tone of the question, Maitimo turned around to see the enigmatic look on his father's face. "Yes, he is," he answered. 

"Be careful with him, my son."

"What…? Why? Is something the matter with Findekáno?" Maitimo asked.

"I hope not. Time will tell. But I have my suspicions. The boy might be in his early twenties, but he is old enough to start thinking about certain things," Fëanáro told his son, a fond smile playing on his lips as he saw the genuine concern in Maitimo's appearance.

"Atar, stop alluding to things and just tell me what you know!"

"I know nothing for sure. But I have seen how Findekáno looks at you. My son, the boy adores you. He works so hard and he is so happy when he spends his time with you. Surely you must have noticed."

Maitimo nodded. 

"Yes, I have seen that too. And I love Findekáno very much, Atar. He is like a brother to me."

"I know, Nelyo. He is like a son to me, as well. That is why I am telling you to be careful," Fëanáro replied.

"I will be. But what should I do? Would it be best if I spent less time with him?" Maitimo asked, but the look on his face spoke volumes about how much he disliked the idea.

"No," Fëanáro replied softly, a distant light flickering in his eyes for a second. "He is but a child now and it would hurt him deeply if you rejected his friendship and turned away from him. Later, however... Do what your heart tells you, Nelyo. I trust your judgment and your feelings. And you can always come to me for advice," he finished, smiling warmly.

Maitimo walked back to his father and embraced him, rubbing his cheek against the silky, dark hair. "You have a lot of faith in me, Atar. And so does the young one. I will try my best not to fail either of you. And... it looks like I am not the only one who has taken it upon himself to notice certain things," he murmured in his father's ear.

"No... It's my job to look after you, even if I am lousy at it, sometimes," Fëanáro answered.

"You are not lousy! Don't ever say that," Maitimo demanded and silenced his father as he made to reply. His mouth found Fëanáro's soft lips and the elder Elf gave in to the long, tender kiss that they shared, neither willing to let go. It was Fëanáro who pressed his palms against Maitimo's chest and gently pushed him away, after several minutes passed and they did not tire of tasting and teasing each other.

"Be gone, temptation! We have other things to do," he murmured, caressing Maitimo's arms even as he moved away.

"Other, but not _better_ ," Maitimo replied saucily as he strode to the door. He turned around to flash his father a dazzling smile, before unlocking the door and slipping outside with barely a sound.

For a few moments, Fëanáro remained still, staring into space. The dreamy smile never left his face, even as he put himself in motion and began clearing the room of any trace of the morning's... activities. His smile turned into a snicker, as he tossed his rumpled cloak aside and ran a clean cloth over the table he had ravished Maitimo on. Eventually, he slid to the floor, dropping the cloth and clutching at his stomach as he was shaken by waves of uncontrollable laughter, tears running from the corners of his eyes and onto smooth, flushed cheeks.


	2. THE ART OF GETTING CAUGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This second installment is set many years after 'Atar', by the time even Fëanor's youngest sons have come of age, but they are all still young and carefree.

It was a warm summer day, not a speck of cloud on the azure sky, barely a breeze whispering among the leaves and the forest itself appeared to slumber as mid-day approached. The lazy hour found the hunting party in a large clearing, resting after the morning chase. 

The Elves had unpacked their gear and set their mounts free to graze on the rich grass, sprinkled with tiny, white flowers. It seemed like an excellent place to set camp, but neither of them felt like starting to pitch the tents and collecting fire-wood just yet. For the time being, the eight companions - clad in light, hunter's garments that helped them blend with their surroundings - had found suitable places to rest, weapons at hand and ready to start another chase if the opportunity presented itself.

Ambarussa had settled themselves comfortably on the soft grass, content to let the golden light bathe them. Both had removed their tunics and boots, unlacing their shirts and exposing themselves to the warm glow of Laurelin's light. Pityo was sprawled on his back, one arm bent beneath his head and using the fingers of the other to absentmindedly play with his twin brother's hair. Telvo had also lain back on the grass, but he had unbraided his hair, resting his head on Pityo's stomach, closing his eyes and enjoying his brother's fluttering caresses. He sighed and dropped the blade of grass he had been chewing, making Pityo laugh softly. The twins' coppery hair caught the light and shone even brighter, making the two appear as exotic wonders of the forest, resting peacefully one moment and then vanishing like an enchanted vision the next.

When a large shadow obscured the golden light above him, Telvo cracked one eye open, and found himself peering up at Kurvo's chestnut horse. The beautiful animal had approached them quietly, content to munch on the rich grass.

"Heei... what are you doing?" Telvo giggled, when the horse lowered its head and sniffed his shoulder. "Don't eat my hair," he said, patting the horse's nuzzle gently. The animal huffed and swung its long tail, happily ignoring the young Elf and grazing, less than a foot away from Telvo's arm.

A few steps to their right, partly shaded by the branches of an old tree, Tyelkormo and Carnistir were engrossed in a game of chess, sitting cross-legged, on the opposite sides of a small, wooden board. They spoke in hushed tones after every move and it appeared as tough the older brother was winning, but at the cost of constantly distracting Carnistir - arguably the better strategist of the two. Just as Tyelkormo had made a move with his remaining knight, chewing on a strand of golden hair that had escaped his loosened braids, Carnistir's eyes narrowed and a small, triumphant smile crossed his face, as he found the breach to best his brother again. Tyelkormo noticed, but it was too late. He could not undo his move and even if he had the opportunity to do so, he could see only one other option and it was far worse than the one he had chosen. 

"Go ahead, amaze me...," he said, reaching out and caressing his brother's shoulder. He was rewarded with a broad grin and Carnistir winked.

"Are you sure…? I could finish this quickly or I could let you boil a little longer," Carnistir said, chuckling when Tyelkormo huffed and sighed in defeat. "Remember that if you lose one more time, you'll have to skin the rabbits," Carnistir reminded him.

"Before long, I suppose you're going to make me cook them, too," Tyelkormo retorted. "Make your move, already, it's getting late."

"As you wish...," Carnistir crooned and picked one of his pieces, lifting it from the board and looking at his brother from behind his thick, dark eyelashes.

Near the two players, but quite oblivious to the evolution of their game, Macalaurë leaned against the trunk of the old tree, murmuring a song in his beautiful, soothing voice. Kurvo sat between his brother's legs, his back turned to Macalaurë, allowing the musician's nimble fingers to undo his small braids and gather all of his dark hair in a single, long braid that fell to the small of his back. Macalaurë smiled, watching his young brother swaying a little, lulled by the song and the gentle fingers that worked in his silky hair. 

"Are you sleepy, baby brother?" Macalaurë whispered, placing a kiss on the top of his brother's head.

"Mmm, yes...," Kurvo purred.

"Well, you can lean on me and have a nap," his brother said, wrapping Kurvo in his arms and shifting to a more comfortable position. He resumed his soft singing, looking at his brother's face, as Kurvo rested his head on Macalaurë's shoulder, lulled even further by the hum of his brother's chest as he sang.

Macalaurë brushed his fingers over Kurvo's exquisite features, marveling again at how much of his father he could see in them. He wondered whether Fëanáro had looked the same as a youth and it saddened him to think that his father had never had an older sibling or a friend to hold him like that.

A bit further away from their companions, where the shade was deeper and their belongings had been piled together, Maitimo and Findekáno also enjoyed a few moments of rest and privacy, as the others paid them no mind. The two shared small kisses and gentle caresses, lying close to each other on the grass. 

Maitimo's head rested on his wrapped bedroll, as he sat back and welcomed his lover in his arms. Findekáno laced the fingers of his left hand with those of Maitimo's right, both their palms resting against the older Elf's chest. Nestling his head in the crook of Maitimo's neck, Findekáno closed his eyes, enjoying the wonderful feeling of being so close to his beloved, wrapped in his arms, his senses filled with every little thing that was Maitimo. Though they meant to rest, the younger of the cousins could not help shifting every now and then, lifting his head so he could press lingering kisses on Maitimo's lips.

All of them were content to simply relax a while longer, despite knowing that their tents needed to be pitched, their water-skins refilled, wood had to be collected and a pit dug for the fire that they would be using to cook their next meal over. More importantly, they needed to find more game, since the morning's chase had earned them only three rabbits - hardly enough to feed eight hungry Elves, even if they could be boiled in a stew with some potatoes and the strong spices that Maitimo had borrowed from his father's ample collection. They still had some of their provisions, but they would rather spare the biscuits and dried foods for the following days, unsure if the weather would hold and they would be able to hunt freely for the rest of their trip.

After a while, Tyelkormo and Carnistir put away their game in favor of just resting close to each other. Macalaurë's song had ceased and his head had fallen back against the smooth bark of the old tree. The only sounds that could be heard were made by the horses, moving lazily here and there, chewing and swinging their tails. Even the insects and the multitude of birds that chattered among the branches had quieted and peaceful slumber appeared to embrace every living creature.

Well, _almost_ every living creature. The silence was abruptly broken by the loud baying of a huge hound as it burst into the clearing and startled the young Elves. Tyelkormo sprang to his feet, looking around in confusion until he located Huan and ran toward him. The hound kept barking and wagging his tail frantically.

"What is it, boy?" Tyelkormo asked, patting the dog's head.

Huan raised himself on his hind legs - standing almost as tall as Tyelkormo - and nudged his master's hand.

"Did you find anything?" 

The large hound wagged his tail and barked a couple of times.

"Did you hear that? Huan has tracked something down," Tyelkormo turned to his companions, watching them scamper to their feet, stretching their limbs and shaking away the last traces of sleep. "What did you find, Huan? Some more rabbits?"

The dog stood motionless and lowered his tail, looking straight into his master's blue eyes.

"No? A boar, then?" Tyelkormo inquired with a hopeful look.

Huan remained still and his dark, intelligent eyes all but spoke. 

"What then? A deer, perhaps?" Tyelkormo tried again and he was rewarded with some wild barking and wagging of Huan's fluffy tail. The young Elf nodded and lowered himself on one knee, to give the amazing beast a quick hug. "Good boy!" he crooned, scratching Huan behind the ears and ducking, before the great hound could lick his face. 

Then, he rose to his feet and turned to his kinsmen. 

"Come on! This might be our chance to secure a decent meal for tonight," he said, walking back to where he had discarded his weapons. Curufinwë was already armed and prepared to take off, but he gave his youngest brothers a hand, while Ambarussa straightened their clothes and pulled their boots on.

"I'll go fetch the horses," Macalaurë said, buckling the strap of his quiver across his chest. "Come with me, Moryo."

Tossing his longbow over his shoulder, Carnistir followed his older brother, whistling sharply and calling his grey mare. Tyelkormo also headed toward his horse, but Huan leaped in front of him and barked once, before assuming the motionless position that signified _'no'_ , in his communication with his master and friend.

"We should go on foot, then?" Tyelkormo asked, watching the hound intently. 

Understanding the Elf's words, Huan wagged his tail and barked, moving his head up and down as if trying to nod.

"All right," Tyelkormo agreed and then shouted the message to his brothers and cousin.

"I swear, this hound is one of the smartest creatures I know," Kurvo said, stopping at Tyelkormo's side.

"He certainly is smarter than some Elves I know. Aren't you, boy?" Tyelkormo asked, smiling fondly in Huan's direction. The great hound barked and flapped his tail in approval. "He understands everything we say and sometimes I really wish he could speak to us with words."

"Well, you seem to have found a way to communicate with each other, anyway. Which way do we go, Huan?" Macalaurë asked, ruffling the hound's soft fur.

Huan trotted in the direction he had returned from his scouting expedition. After a few steps, he turned his big head around and checked to see if the Elves were following. Tyelkormo and the twins were right behind him, followed by Macalaurë, Curufinwë and Carnistir. Somewhere, on the other side of the clearing, Maitimo made to follow, having picked up his weapons, but Findekáno tugged his arm and made him turn around.

"What is it, my love? Hurry, they will flee and I don't want us to be separated from the group," Maitimo said.

Findekáno shook his head and gave his cousin a pleading look.

"I don't want to go, Maitimo." 

"Hmm? Why? Is something the matter? Are you not feeling well?" Maitimo frowned and scanned Findekáno's face for any signs of unease.

"I am fine. It's not that," the younger Elf rushed to assure Maitimo.

"Then what is it?"

"I want to stay here, with you," Findekáno answered, lowering his eyes as he stressed the last words.

Maitimo bit his lip, discerning what his lover had in mind. The mere thought of it made him grin, but his head snapped in the direction of his departing brothers, when he heard Kurvo shouting: "Are you coming?"

"No! We'll stay here and look over our things. Maybe get the fire going!" Maitimo answered.

"Suit yourselves!" came the reply and Maitimo caught only a glimpse of movement, as his brother disappeared through and opening in the rich undergrowth, following the others who had already started the pursuit. 

"Good luck!" Findekáno shouted, listening to the rustling of leaves and the sounds of the chase drawing further away from the clearing. His cousins had to run and struggle to keep up with Huan, trying not to lose sight of the hound and watching out for the obstacles they encountered. Before long, they were well out of earshot and that was exactly where Findekáno wanted them.

Maitimo and Findekáno stood motionless and listened to the woods around them quiet. Hand on his hip and head cocked in a questioning look, Maitimo turned to his cousin and eyed him expectantly.

"They are far away now, Findekáno. Tell me, just what do you have in mind?"

"Well... I'm sure that your brothers are numerous and capable enough to bring down the game...," Findekáno began, running a thin, gold plaited braid between his fingers and blushing slightly. "There will be other opportunities for us to take part in more than one chase."

"Káno...," Maitimo drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he could not suppress a smirk.

"Yes, yes, get to the point. I know," the younger Elf huffed. "You Fëanorians! So impatient and so eager to jump into everything head first."

Maitimo's mind registered Findekáno's words with a completely different, none-too-innocent meaning, and Maitimo snickered. He watched Findekáno raising his eyebrows questioningly, then it dawned upon him that his words had served as a naughty insinuation.

"I wanted us to stay behind because it has been too long since the last time we've been alone together," the dark-haired Elf said.

"Two and a half days, to be more precise," Maitimo nodded. "And I have missed it, too, my sweet."

Findekáno closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Maitimo's waist, resting his head on the taller Elf's shoulder. His cousin's height had reached unusual proportions over the past decades and Maitimo had come to tower above all his family members. Even their grandfather Finwë, from whom they believed that all of his kinsmen had inherited their tall, strong build, had to look up when wanting to meet Maitimo's eyes. 

Macalaurë had jokingly wondered about Maitimo's distracted moods one day and told him that the air must be thinner at his height, which explained why Maitimo had become such an air-head of late. Of course, Maitimo answered with a good-natured laugh, and shot back an equally stinging retort. 

It was never boring, hanging out with his cousins, Findekáno thought, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of Maitimo's tunic and issuing a contended sigh. Despite the fact that he was tall enough to match most of his other cousins, the top of Findekáno's head reached just bellow Maitimo's nose, but the younger Elf was not at all bothered by the difference. _'It doesn't matter... Besides, it's all the same to me, once we're lying down,'_ he had told Maitimo once, and then blushed crimson when he heard his uncle snickering, as Fëanáro had silently crept into the room and overheard their conversation.

"I have missed you badly," Findekáno murmured, pressing little kisses along the line of Maitimo's jaw. "I don't think your brothers care much if we are in each other's arms all the time, but I need more than that," he added, kissing Maitimo's soft lips and nipping them lightly.

Maitimo moaned softly and returned the kiss, plunging his fingers into his cousin's rich tresses, savoring their silky smoothness and the delicious taste of his lover's hungry mouth.

"So do I, my beautiful. It's not easy for me to keep my hands off you either," Maitimo whispered on Findekáno's lips, their foreheads pressed together and noses touching.

"I know. But we are alone now...," Findekáno said, smiling suggestively.

"So we are... Still, you do realize that they can come back anytime," Maitimo answered.

"Mmmmhmm... We'll have to be quick, then," the younger Elf purred, pressing himself closer to Maitimo.

The red-head chuckled, shaking his head. 

"As you wish, beloved, as you wish," he replied in a sing-song voice. "But... here?"

"No, you silly!" Findekáno exclaimed, disentangling himself from the embrace with great reluctance. "Over there," he pointed to a patch of thick bushes, on the opposite side of the clearing to where the hunting party had disappeared after their game.

"Those have thorns, my love...," Maitimo teased, just for the fun of having Findekáno whine in reply.

"Well, it's not like I'm going to strip you naked and take you in the brambles!"

"You're not?" Maitimo asked, putting on a surprised expression.

"Oh, quit pulling my leg! Come on, we can banter all we want later, when we have to cook a meal for eight. We're wasting precious time, sitting here and talking nonsense," Findekáno said, waving his hand impatiently.

"All right... but it's fun to watch you getting flustered," Maitimo answered, his voice rich with laughter.

Findekáno muttered something under his breath and huffed, looking away. By the time he returned his attention to Maitimo, his cousin had walked to the pile of bedrolls and back-packs, searching for his own and rummaging through it. When he found the vial of healing balm that he had hidden in a secret pocket, Maitimo smiled and called for Findekáno.

"Well, are you coming or not?" 

The dark-haired Elf closed the distance between them in a few long strides, picking up Maitimo's bedroll as he went. He put the roll of thick fabric under his left arm and extended his right hand to Maitimo.

"Lead the way," Maitimo said, lacing his fingers with Findekáno's and bringing their joined hands to his lips.

They reached the thicket and stopped for a few moments, searching for the best way to move around it. Findekáno walked ahead, removing wayward branches and warning Maitimo of what obstacles barred their way. They advanced slowly through the thorny bushes, not without a scratch or two.

"I doubt any of your brothers will want to venture this way, if they do get back so soon," Findekáno said, putting his mouth over a scratch on the back of his hand and trying to soothe the stinging.

"They might not, but I'm sure Huan will face any peril to find us and rescue us. Especially if he will hear some suspicious noises. Unless you want us to be quick _and quiet_ , too," Maitimo grinned.

"Hmm... I trust Huan to be a kind and discreet hound. Besides, you should not complain so much. You, of all people, should be used to hiding and doing naughty things," Findekáno said, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth. His blue eyes widened as Maitimo whirled around and a surge of sudden anger sharpened his beautiful features.

The younger Elf felt a cold shiver running down his spine and guilt knotted painfully in the pit of his stomach. He cringed, when Maitimo loomed above him and growled.

"Yes, that would be me. It turns me on so much to hide behind locked doors and fool around, knowing that I could get caught by anybody in the household..."

"Maitimo...," Findekáno began, but realized that he had his palm firmly pressed against his treacherous mouth. He moved it away and wanted to reach out for his cousin, but Maitimo shied from his touch, taking a step back.

"You know what? To Mandos with it! Let's go back and you can bang my brains out right in the middle of the clearing. And if my brothers stumble upon us, why that's part of the fun, isn't it?" Maitimo asked bitterly.

Findekáno felt very small and very stupid, despite the fact that a part of him screamed in outrage. It was impossible to know how to behave and what to do around Maitimo, when his relationship with his father chanced to be brought up. There were times when Maitimo would speak openly about all the aspects of what he and Fëanáro shared, the intense love he felt for his father plainly written on his face. And then, there were times when Maitimo would close himself off completely, unwilling to say or hear a word and becoming defensive even at the slightest hint. It was then that Findekáno had to fight his own jealousy and insecurity, while trying to placate an angry Maitimo. 

In the darkest hours of sleepless nights, when Findekáno was away from his lover, he wondered if he would ever truly have Maitimo to himself, whether his cousin would chose him over his father, should the unfortunate need for it arise and the choice would have to be made. In spite all the love between them and the many ways he had been reassured, sometimes, Findekáno has his doubts.

 _'But now is not the time for that!'_ he admonished himself. _'Now, you're really done it, with a pointless and cruel reply. Hurry up and fix it, you idiot!'_

He watched Maitimo stride past him and start heading back the way they had come. But the red-head stopped when he heard Findekáno calling after him, in a small, pleading voice.

"Maitimo... I'm so sorry. Wait, please. And forgive me. I... I did not mean to say that."

"Well, I wonder what else you could have meant by it?" Maitimo retorted bitterly. His lips were pressed in a thin line and his stormy eyes had a cold edge to them.

"My love... That was foolish of me. I did not mean to hurt you," Findekáno continued in the same pleading tone. He walked toward Maitimo, but his cousin avoided him again, darting out of reach. Before a surprised and hurt Findekáno whirled around, Maitimo had already disappeared into the thicket, tall and tangled enough to hide him from view completely.

"Maitimo, where are you going?" Findekáno called after him, rooted to the spot, his mind searching frantically for a way out of the mess he had made. _'All I wanted were a few moments of closeness and pleasure...'_ he whined to himself. _'Is this all I am going to get? It's bloody unfair!'_

"I've found a good spot to set the bed-roll down. The grass is soft here and there are not too many bumps and roots to dig in our backs. Are you coming or not?" he heard Maitimo's neutral voice from the other side of the bushes.

"What is he saying…?" Findekáno muttered to himself and ordered his feet to move. He picked up the bed-roll that he had dropped a few moments before and made his way past the thicket.

Maitimo waited in the middle of a small undergrowth-free area, shaded by the intertwined branches of two trees. He held his hands clasped before him, looking at his cousin in an expressionless manner.

Findekáno took a deep breath and set the bed-roll down gingerly, stepping cautiously toward his cousin. He expected Maitimo to flinch and move away, but he did not. Instead, Maitimo cast a quick glance around them as though assessing their hard earned privacy.

"Well, this is as good a spot as any... What do you say?"

Findekáno blinked a couple of times, unable to reply and annoyed by the way Maitimo pretended that nothing had happened. 

"I say I am sorry. I know I have upset you and I would like to know if there is any way that I can make it up to you," he said, as calmly as possible.

Maitimo only shrugged and began unlacing his tunic.

"Stop it!" Findekáno covered his cousin's hands with his own. "You are not going to pretend that your anger has cooled just like that."

"We have no time to waste. I thought you wanted it quick and quiet. Well, hurry up," Maitimo replied, freeing his hands and continuing to remove his clothing.

"Maitimo!" Findekáno raised his voice, feeling his own temper rise. "I cannot be with you if this lies between us."

Finally, Maitimo stood still and his odd, distant expression gave way to a small smile.

"I know," he said. "I was getting back at you."

Findekáno closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to refrain from say anything that would aggravate his cousin again.

"Fair enough," he muttered. "But it was a cheap shot."

"So was yours," Maitimo said. "But I overreacted to it. I should have just let it pass," he gave in, taking a step forward and standing before Findekáno.

"Ah! I should not have said anything like that to begin with," Findekáno sighed, relieved that the tension between them was dissipating, but still not sure whether the incident would be forgotten so easily. "I don't know what came over me," he whispered.

Maitimo's hands rose to cup his cousin's cheeks and he lifted Findekáno's chin until their eyes met.

"Listen to me," he said, in a low voice. "I know what came over you. And I am sorry to see that everything we have is not enough to convince you. Findekáno, I love you. My past is behind me."

 _'Is it?'_ Findekáno wanted to ask, but swallowed painfully and remained quiet, his eyes caught in the intense gaze that Maitimo held him captive with.

"What Atar and I had is over. I love him deeply and always will. I cherish everything he has given me and all I have learned from him. All that has come to pass between us will always have a special place in my heart and Atar will always be my trusted friend. I will always be there for him, but you must understand that my heart, my body and my all passion belong to you now. What was before you and I, remains in the past. You need not doubt me and it pains me to see that part of you still does."

Findekáno's heart raced and he looked up at his lover with something close to despair, badly wanting to believe him. When Maitimo ran his fingers over his face, in a gentle, tender touch, Findekáno closed his eyes and felt them sting under the pressure of tears. But he fought to hold them back.

"I'm sorry. I do not doubt you, my love. I'm just stupid and insecure, sometimes," he murmured, embracing Maitimo.

"You are certainly not stupid," Maitimo replied. He ran his thumb over Findekáno's full lower lip, marveling at the surge of lust that shot through him just looking at that delectable mouth as Findekáno drew in a deep breath. "Káno, you have to understand that I do not want to be torn between you and Atar. That is not what he wishes for us, either. And he certainly does not want us to carry our relationship behind closed doors and people's backs, as though we are ashamed of it. I felt no shame in giving myself to Atar or claiming him as my own. We would not have kept it hidden but for the sake of our family. You and I, however, are a different thing altogether. I will not keep our love from anyone's knowledge, even if sometimes I feel like taking you away, so I can have you all to myself and hoard you like a precious treasure." 

Findekáno smiled sweetly, unable to resist such a passionate declaration. He raised himself and pressed his lips against Maitimo's, beginning a slow and tender kiss.

"Hoard me all to yourself, Maitimo. I don't mind...," he whispered, pressing himself fully against the other's body. He was rewarded with a soft moan and another kiss, more passionate and demanding than the previous one.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" he inquired, slipping a hand beneath Maitimo's tunic, and rubbing his lover's taut muscles, through the fabric of Maitimo's light shirt.

"Can I ever stay mad at you?" Maitimo answered, giving into the other Elf's touch and feeling himself responding strongly.

"I hope not... Because I want you something fierce right now and it would pain me terribly if I could not have you," Findekáno murmured, his caresses growing bolder.

"Go on, have your wicked way with me...," Maitimo said, tossing his head back and baring his throat before Findekáno's hungry growl.

What would have been slow and sensual caresses in another setting quickly morphed into a frantic assault that inflamed their senses immediately. Their clothes were taken off and thrown away in hurried movements. Questing hands and nimble fingers touched heated skin and elicited delighted moans from both lovers. Knowing each other's bodies well, it was not long before they worked each other into a panting, grinding swell of imperious desire. 

Between kisses, they fumbled to untie the bed-roll and spread it on the soft grass. Maitimo searched the pockets of his tunic for the salve vial and handed it to his cousin, before lying back on the bed-roll and bracketing his cousin between his long legs. Meeting Findekáno's burning gaze head on, he wrapped his fingers around his throbbing shaft and stroked himself languidly. 

Incensed by the wanton display, Findekáno needed no further prompting to kneel between his lover's spread legs and to start placing wet, hot kisses along the inside of Maitimo's thighs. Maitimo's breath hitched and he pumped himself faster, eyes glazing over with lust as he watched his cousin uncork the small vial and coat his fingers liberally.

Findekáno met little resistance when his fingers teased his lover's entrance. Maitimo gasped and jerked his hips, pushing himself onto the slick fingers, moaning low in his throat and clenching against the intrusion. But he was groaning for more and tugging frantically on his cock, pressing himself against the probing fingers. With bated breath, Findekáno added a third finger and crooked it inside quivering passage, making Maitimo howl when he brushed the right spot. 

"Slow down, my love," Findekáno pleaded and throbbed painfully as he watched Maitimo pleasuring himself freely. "Take your hand away, please," he pried Maitimo's long fingers from the flushed length that glistened with pre-come and for a moment, all Findekáno wanted was to take it down his throat and drink it dry.

Moaning in frustration, Maitimo complied and placed his hands at his sides, twitching with the effort to restrain himself. He was soon distracted when Findekáno added more salve and prepared him thoroughly, brushing his sensitive spot every two or three strokes and making jerk impatiently.

While he still had a fraction of self control left, Findekáno used his slicked hand to coat his own aching shaft. He took hold of Maitimo's hips and raised him, spreading his legs further. When he positioned the engorged head of his cock at his lover's entrance, he held still for a moment, enjoying the way Maitimo's body tensed in anticipation. Then, pushed forward just a little, breaching the tight ring of muscle and keening softly under that wonderful heat. Every time it seemed that he would plunge in, Maitimo held his breath, steadying himself and whimpering as Findekáno teased but did not take him fully. 

Minutes of slow torture passed and to heighten it, Findekáno spread the slick pre-come in lazy circles over the head of Maitimo's cock or rolled his taut sack gently, all the while rocking back and forth, in and out but never quite through the clenching ring of muscle. When he could not endure it anymore, Maitimo wrapped his legs tight around Findekáno's waist and raised himself further, nudging against his lover's throbbing member.

"Findekáno, please!" he mewled and arched his back, bucking into Findekáno violently and drawing him in with a broken cry. 

Findekáno's hips jerked of their own accord and his length slid all the way in, but Maitimo gave him not a moment to adjust. He was more than ready, so ready in fact, that before the fog lifted from Findekáno's eyes and he could angle his hips better, Maitimo was rocking into him as much as the uncomfortable position allowed him to, his heels and palms digging into the soft earth beneath them.

Wordlessly, Maitimo urged him to move, to take him hard and fast and Findekáno obeyed the frantic commands, drifting into a sweet agony as fire engulfed him and spread from his loins tough every vein and every nerve ending. He rammed into the writhing body beneath him and quickly lost himself in the haze of pleasure, eyes clouding and ears drowned in a roar of lust. He watched Maitimo thrash and moan, his exotic hair tangled and spread beneath him in a fiery pool. Closing his eyes, Findekáno allowed himself to be swept away, spurred on by the passionate sounds that spilled from Maitimo's lips.

At some point, however, the moans and whimpers turned into "No... Findekáno, stop! No, listen to me... Please!" 

The young Elf blinked in confusion, tried and failed to stop his hips from jerking and blinked owlishly at Maitimo. His lover's face was still flushed with exertion, but pleasure seemed to be replaced by something else. Was it annoyance that Findekáno thought he saw?

As he shook his head, Findekáno's eyes fell on Maitimo's forgotten erection, lying flush against his cousin's taut abdomen. Murmuring something to himself, he curled his fingers around the thick shaft and stroked it. Maitimo rewarded him with a mewl of denied need but begged him to stop in the same breath.

"What is it, my love? Are you in pain?" Findekáno asked breathlessly, searching Maitimo's face for a sign of discomfort.

"There is someone in the bushes behind you," Maitimo whsipered brokenly.

"What?!" Findekáno gaped.

"I heard a noise saw the branches moving over there."

"Are you sure? Maybe it's one of the horses. Or some squirrels," Findekáno tried, but Maitimo shook his head.

"Horses and squirrels don't snicker," he said, listening intently. Just as he finished, a giggle erupted from the bushes, followed by a thump and a muffled groan.

Maitimo collapsed on the bed-roll and closed his eyes.

"Ambarussa, what in bloody blazes you doing there?" he groaned in utter exasperation.

"Having a look and Findekáno's pretty behind," one of the twins said, and yelped, when the other elbowed him painfully.

"Shut up, you idiot! We were worried about you and... we heard noises," the other twin began, stopping when he realized that he sounded just as embarrassing, no matter what he said.

Instinctively, Maitimo crossed his legs behind Findekáno, in a feeble attempt to conceal his nudity. Findekáno had covered his face with both palms and he was trying very hard not to laugh, knowing that it would make him move inside Maitimo and drive him back to the edge.

"We're sorry!" both twins quipped at the same time.

"You damn well better be! I don't know what I'm going to do when I get my hands on you two. Now just go away, before you ruin this for us completely," Maitimo said, mustering all the authority he could, given his position.

There was some shuffling and whispering before one of the twins answered.

"We're going. Sorry... Honestly, we did not mean to interrupt."

"Fine! Just go!" Maitimo shouted and then remained silent, straining his ears to hear his brothers moving away. His breath caught in his throat when he felt Findekáno's shaft twitching inside him, as the young Elf exploded into gales of laughter.

"Oooh... you think this is funny?" he asked, but could not help grinning himself, when he saw Findekáno's face lit with so much mirth.

"My pretty behind thinks it's funny," Findekáno managed to say, running his palms over Maitimo's chest and abdomen.

"Well, no matter how pretty your behind may be... and believe me, _it is_... that's not going to save Ambarussa from my wrath," Maitimo vowed, but the smile on his face betrayed his amusement.

"Sshh... save your wrath for later. I want your pleasure now. Where were we?" Findekáno inquired, angling his hips for a deep plunge that left Maitimo speechless. His fingers found Maitimo's hard shaft and he began coaxing ecstatic cries out of his lover once more.

***

When they returned to the camp site, some time later, Maitimo and Findekáno found the clearing bustling with activity. Curufinwë was digging a pit while Carnistir cut some dried branches with a small axe. Macalaurë was rifling through the back-packs, taking out cooking utensils and some of the provisions, while Tyelkormo stood near the carcass of a fairly large deer, waiting for water and clean knives to be brought to him.

"Where have you been?" Kurvo asked, without lifting his head or stopping his work. 

"Taking care of camp, eh?" Carnistir cut in, before either Maitimo or Findekáno could answer.

"Collecting nuts and berries, perhaps?" Macalaurë pitched in, smiling crookedly.

"Oh, shut up! All of you!" Maitimo barked, feeling the euphoria of love-making wearing off.

"One of these days, Nelyo..." 

_'What are you going to do, tell Atar?'_ Maitimo groaned to himself and then his imagination took a leap, placing his father in those bushes, instead of the twin rascals. He didn’t know whether the idea made him want to throw Findekáno down and pound him into the ground or take Carnistir's ax and carve an outlet in the side of his head for such thoughts.

"Help me with this?" Tyelkormo motioned to the felled animal. "Where are those good for nothing twins? They went to refill the water-skins from that stream we crossed this morning, but that was ages ago!" 

Trying to deflect the bickering that passed back and forth between the brothers, Findekáno walked away from Maitimo and approached Tyelkormo, sizing the game appreciatively. "It's a nice one you've caught here."

Tyelkormo simply nodded, a small smile touching his lips.

"I will help you skin and carve it," Findekáno offered, despite being rather grossed out by the idea.

"Thank you, but you don't have to. I know it's not to your taste. You can work with Maitimo and Kurvo, to cook it. Besides, those red-headed rascals promised me their help. If only they got back from wherever they wandered off to..."

As Tyelkormo finished muttering, Ambarussa showed up, bent under the burden of eight full water-skins, their cheeks a little too flushed, their coppery hair a little too tangled and their clothes a little too rumpled for anyone's taste but their own. They set their load down and began chatting with Macalaurë, but when they caught Findekáno's eye, all three of them were hard pressed to keep from laughing.


	3. WINE, ANYONE?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To even the numbers between Fëanor's and Fingolfin's brood, I have decided to unearth the elusive Arakáno, or Argon, as he would have been known if he had lived long enough to acquire a Sindarin name.
> 
> According to the post-Silmarillion histories, Argon is the fourth child of Fingolfin and Anairë, brother to Fingon and Turgon and Aredhel. His Quenya name is Arakáno ("High Commander"), named so partially for his impetuous character. Argon set foot on Middle-earth with his father and brothers, but he was killed during the Battle of the Lammoth. Argon distinguished himself during the fighting by hewing a path through his foes and slaying the captain of the Orcs. (as per The Peoples of Middle-earth and "The Shibboleth of Fëanor")
> 
> To me, it seemed fitting that I should give Fingolfin's youngest to Fëanor's youngest.

Arakáno nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. He got up and hastily straightened his clothes, rushing to answer.

"My Lord Arakáno, your guests have arrived," a young maid said, bowing before him as he pulled the door open.

"I shall greet them presently, thank you," he replied, going back to his desk and depositing the book he had been trying to read on the polished wooden surface. The girl had vanished to her next task, leaving his door open, and Arakáno stepped outside, maintaining a steady pace and struggling with the urge to fly through the corridors and down the grand staircase of his family's mansion.

For some ridiculous reason that he had failed to shake off, Arakáno was terribly anxious to see and spend time with his cousins. Especially without Findekáno's reassuring presence at hand. Granted, he would pass most of the day engrossed in the preparations for the upcoming feast with the nicest and friendliest of Fëanáro's sons (or so rumors had it), but still, some absurd fear made his heart pound, as he descended the long flight of steps and his eyes darted to the twins.

Ambarussa waited, chatting to each other in hushed tones, standing near a large sofa. A quick perusal of their appearance confirmed Arakáno's worst fear: they were both dressed exactly the same way, wearing their red hair unbound. Both young Elves were clad in soft green leggings and tunics of identical design, they wore dark-brown riding boots of identical style, and the collars of similar cream colored shirts peeked from beneath their tunics. At their throats hung two identical pendants shaped like the Star of their House. They must have come straight from the stables, but not a speck of dust could be seen on their garments as they stood there tall and fair and completely at ease in the wide, empty foyer.

Both brothers turned their heads at the same time and smiled, watching Arakáno as he reached the bottom of the stairs and strode toward them.

"Arakáno!" one of them greeted him.

"We are sorry for the delay," the other quipped.

"Hello, cousins. And welcome. You are not late," the dark-haired Elf said, approaching them.

They shared brief embraces and small pleasantries, Arakáno inviting them to sit and accept some refreshments. He poured them each a glass of lemonade and a maidservant brought a tray of various fruit and cookies, setting it on the tea-table before them. He reclined against a huge armchair that Finwë used to always tarry in and sit his young nephews and niece on his knees when they wanted another tale and for their grandfather not to leave.

"I hope your ride from home was not unpleasant," Arakáno said, looking from one twin to the other and trying to conceal the frustration of not being able to tell them apart. He decided to simply wait, until one of them would name the other, too embarrassed to ask them flat out which one was Pityo and which one Telvo. 

"The ride was quite nice," the one on the left answered, finishing is glass and setting it on the table. "But we had to stop when Ambarussa's horse got a pebble stuck in its hoof. The poor thing had already started limping when we noticed the problem..."

"We should have paid more attention, but Atar told us to get here as fast as we can," the other twin added and suddenly, Arakáno decided that it was going to be a long and difficult day, if he could not tell them apart and if he had to put up with them finishing each other's sentences as well. But he merely smiled and asked after the horse's well-being.

"Yes, he is fine and we have left both animals in capable hands," the twin who appeared to be the owner of said horse told Arakáno.

"Would you like some more lemonade? Something else, maybe?" he offered.

"No, thank you. Perhaps later. We should get straight to work, I think," the same cousin answered.

"I suppose we should," Arakáno nodded. "I have the list grandfather has drawn up yesterday. Here it is," he said, producing a thin scroll from a pocket of his dark blue tunic. He walked over to the twins and handed it to the one that was nearest. "I shall go fetch a quill, some ink and a few sheets of paper, so we can cross the assortments that you have selected at home and those that are to arrive from Formenos tomorrow," he added, heading toward a side door that opened into one of his father's many studies.

Arakáno and the twins had been invested with the responsibility of procuring every assortment of wine available from the list of over three dozen fancy vintage names that their grandfather had recommended. The preparations for Nolofinwë's begetting day were in full swing and that long list was only one of the many things which indicated that the feast would be of legendary proportions.

To everyone's surprise, Fëanáro and his sons had immediately volunteered to help with the preparations, to run errands and provide whatever supplies they could gather from the towns and farms in the north. Fëanáro himself had made the trip to Formenos, securing a cargo of various game, twenty barrels of his favorite red wine and more specialties of the area that were due to arrive in Tirion, accompanied by two chefs.

Maitimo and Findekáno had taken it upon themselves to appoint carpenters and decorators for the hall and the gardens that would host the feast. They also had to ready themselves for a three day trip to Alqualondë and back, to deliver the invitations to King Olwë and his Queen, plus run some other errands with the Telerin fishermen and cooks.

Everyone was busy with something, from the design of the tablecloth to the music (Macalaurë had agreed to play but his status allowed for only a few songs and for the rest, he tormented the appointed musicians in ways that only one of undeniable genius could) to the fireworks that would light the sky with fantastic, never before seen shapes. The combined effort was greater than ever before, all other celebrations included. The cousins had mixed and formed teams which ran here and there, busying themselves and having fun while doing so, much to Nolofinwë's astonishment and the High King's sheer joy.

Of course, gossip spread like wildfire through Tirion and many tongues wagged about what the House of Fëanáro plotted, but the cousins had always presented a united front and if they had somehow managed to draw Prince Fëanáro in their midst, it was unwise to look that gift horse in the mouth too closely.

As Arakáno searched for writing instruments, he pondered on how to get out of the predicament he was in without insulting his cousins with his inability to tell them apart. He wondered whether they were playing a prank or whether they honestly believed it was no trouble for him to discern who was who.

 _'And I thought Turukáno had it rough with tyrant Macalaurë and brooding Carnistir...,'_ the young Elf muttered, quickly checking himself as he returned to his companions.

The twins sat up and made room for Arakáno to sit between them, handing him back the list that displayed Finwë's firm, steady hand. They began telling him which assortments of wine they had found, in what quantities and when they were due to be brought to the Royal Cellar. Arakáno jotted down numbers and brief notes on the parchment, feeling his head spin as he heard the same voice coming from both left and right. The frustration of not being able to call the twins by their respective names grew as he had to be careful when addressing each of them. At some point, Arakáno’s temper began to fray when he realized that his cousins were deliberately calling each other Ambarussa. He _was_ subject to one of their jokes, after all.

"Now all we need to do is give Maitimo a list of what he can bring from the coast and then visit grandfather's wine cellar, to find and mark the bottles and barrels that will be used at the party. Did you bring those labels that Kurvo made, with the sticky substance on one side, Ambarussa?" one of the twins asked and Arakáno thought he was about to gag if he had to hear that name one more time.

"They are in my backpack. You asked me twice before, Ambarussa," the other twin answered.

Arakáno winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, biting back his frustrated outburst.

"Are you unwell, cousin?" the brothers asked simultaneously, causing Arakáno to plunge his fingers into hair, tugging it in exasperation and forgetting that he had pulled it back in a tight braid.

"I am fine, _Ambarussa_!" he nearly spat the name, trying not to glare at either of them, even more put off by their innocent faces. "We should go now and get the job over and done with...," he trailed off, looking at one of his cousins and swearing violently within the confines of his head for not knowing which one of them he was facing. The red-head opened his mouth to say something, but clamped it shut at Arakáno's outburst.

"Don't say _Ambarussa_!"

The other twin's hearty laughter made Arakáno crave to bunch that coppery hair in his fists and yank it off with all his might. Or worse, to punch that pretty face. But he knew that everyone would point the finger at him, if a fight ensued and the fragile harmony between their families was threatened by something so stupid.

"I'm sorry... You cannot tell us apart, Arakáno? Is that the problem?" the not-so-amused twin asked.

Arakáno felt his cheeks burning and lowered his eyes in embarrassment that only fueled his frustration.

"No. I don't know which twin you are. I'm sorry, but you two are bloody identical and you're not helping me either!" he muttered.

Pityo shot his brother a knowing look and winked, above Arakáno's head. He put an arm around his cousin's shoulders and said, in the most apologetic voice he could muster:

"Oh, forgive us. We didn't realize it at first and then, we got carried away, speaking about our task and all. We are so sorry for your predicament. We call each other Ambarussa at home all the time."

 _'Yea, well, I have not spent lots of time with you ever since you were born and I sure can't tell you apart by the gleam in your eyes or whatever ridiculous clues your family members use to differentiate you two!'_ Arakáno thought, but remained silent, looking at the speaking twin and waiting for him to finish.

"I am Telufinwë," Pityo lied without blinking. He had done it so many times before, to so many unsuspecting people that it had become as easy as breathing. "He is Pityafinwë and we both apologize for not noticing your confusion sooner."

Telvo nodded, feeling uneasy and less willing to play the prank on their cousin, not knowing him well enough to anticipate his reaction once Arakáno caught on. But on the other hand, it was fun to see people fussing and fretting around them, so easy to fool.

Arakáno’s blush began to abate along with his frustration and he looked at each cousin in turn, giving them a small smile.

"All right, that takes care of the problem. It's my fault too, I should be able to tell you apart. We are family, after all."

Telvo blushed too, quickly looking away and feeling sorry for making his cousin so uncomfortable. Arakáno's honest smile roused a pang of guilt in him. But then, he heard his twin muttering something in his head and he frowned.

"Don't worry about it. Let us make a new list and then fulfill our duties as quickly as we can. Maybe we will have the afternoon to ourselves and we can have some fun, not just work, work, work," the younger twin said, casting a sidelong glance at the arm that his brother had draped over Arakáno's shoulders. Pityo reacted by gingerly removing his hold on their cousin and distracting Arakáno by pointing something on the list that the latter had unrolled on his knees.

They chatted some more, while Arakáno scribbled what his cousins told him. He felt better, once he could address his cousins properly, but something still nagged him, though he could not figure out what. 

The brothers were speaking about the roads that the Formenos transport traveled on and the younger twin said something that ended with "don't you think so, Telvo?" when all three Elves jumped out of their seats, startled by an ominous voice that boomed behind them.

"Ooooh no, you don't! You good for nothing rascals!" Maitimo said, his loud voice filling the hall.

Arakáno and the twins turned their heads, looking like frightened rabbits, much to Maitimo's amusement. He cast Findekáno a fleeting look and saw his cousin following him with a huge smile on his face.

"Good morning, Maitimo. Brother...," Arakáno said, his wide eyes darting from Maitimo's tall frame to his brother's amused expression.

"Good morning, little brother," Findekáno said, closing the distance between them and brushing his lips against Arakáno's forehead. "They've tricked you," he whispered in the younger Elf's ear, before moving away and barely holding back a snicker at the indignant look on Arakáno's face.

"Er... Maitimo," one of the twins began, but their older brother would have none of it.

"Don't you 'Maitimo' me, you nasty little bastard! How dare you do this to your cousin, hmm?" he said, folding his arms and glaring at Telvo. 

There was only one thing scarier than an angry Maitimo and the younger twin shuddered when he heard his brother say: "What will Amil say when she hears that you have upset your cousin like this? And think about how disappointed Atar will be. He trusts you to handle yourselves and get the job done."

 _'Make that two things scarier than an angry Maitimo.'_ Telvo thought and winced. He was about to point the finger at his twin and say that it was his idea when he heard Pityo giving him a mental warning.

"What?! You mean that you've given me the wrong names even after I admitted that I could not tell you apart and apologized for it? Oh, I suppose you put on identical outfits before coming here and you were planning on making a fool of me all day long!" Arakáno snapped, feeling the urge to kick and punch again. He made to get up and leave, but two firm hands pressed him back on the sofa. He looked up and glared at Findekáno, but his brother shook his head and began massaging Arakáno's shoulders. The younger Elf huffed, but leaned into the touch of those skillful hands, ignoring the twins when one of them muttered something that sounded like an apology.

"That's right. Start by saying you are sorry and you damn well better be!" Maitimo grumbled. His brothers cast him wary glances. "I have a mind to send you two back home right now. I'm sure Arakáno can take care of everything without tripping on you and having to worry about your tricks."

"Oh, come on, Nelyo! It was just a joke!" Pityo cried, annoyed by being scolded. 

"Do you hear anyone laughing?" Maitimo retorted. "How many times have I told you that it does not amuse people? It annoys them, foolish, little brother!"

Arakáno snickered, but a firm squeeze of his shoulder silenced him quickly.

"Stop calling me names. I said I was sorry, all right?" Pityo snapped back. 

"That makes no difference to me. It looks like you are not serious enough to be trusted with any task. If Arakáno says so, you will pick up your shameless behinds and get out of here," Maitimo said in a severe tone, expecting Arakáno to answer.

Tempted to say _‘Get out of my face, you brats!’_ , Arakáno opened his mouth to speak but could only wince. His shoulder was beginning to ache from all that pointed squeezing. Findekáno had definitely found a painful way to keep him in line.

"N-no...," Arakáno said. "It's all right, Maitimo. Ambarussa can stay and help me out. I don't really mind. Thank you for letting me know the true identities of your brothers."

"Are you sure? Because I'd be pretty mad at them if I were you," Maitimo insisted.

"Yes, I am. I'm sure," Arakáno answered quickly, before his muscles could be squashed between Findekáno's merciless fingers again.

"All right. You heard your cousin," Maitimo told his brothers. "He is obviously far wiser than you and more forgiving than I am. You had better behave yourselves from now on." 

He leaned on the sofa and put his hands on Telvo's shoulders. "This one is Telufinwë," Maitimo said, giving his brother a slight shake. "He has more freckles on his cheeks than the other one."

"Well... who would have thought of counting the freckles on your brothers’ faces?" Arakáno retorted, rolling his eyes at his eldest cousin. "And if you squeeze my shoulder one more time I'm going to break your fingers!" he growled at Findekáno. His brother immediately took his hands off Arakáno's shoulders, giving Maitimo a mock-suffering look.

"I guess you have a point there, cousin," Maitimo answered, his voice smooth and rich with barely veiled amusement. "If it helps with anything, Pityo has a scar on his left hand from a stupid hunting incident. But, just to make sure...," he trailed off as he ran his fingers through Telvo's hair. 

The younger red-head's eyes fluttered shut and he issued a soft moan, enjoying the feeling of Maitimo's fingers combing through his hair. 

"Don't you purr just yet, kitten," Maitimo said, tenderness replacing anger in his voice. "I'm going to put a braid in your hair and if I see you removing it any time soon, I am going to cut each and every one of these long tresses that you fancy yourself so pretty with," he continued, while his fingers made quick work of pulling Telvo's hair away from his face and into a thin braid. When he was done, he rummaged through his own coppery mane and pulled out a small clip, using it to bind the braid. "There, all done," he crooned, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his little brother's head.

"Don't you just hate older brothers?" Telvo asked Arakáno, but he covered one of Maitimo's hands with his own, silently thanking him and hoping that Maitimo was not truly angry with him and his twin brother.

"Er... maybe," Arakáno shrugged, eying Findekáno and smiling, when the latter smoothed his hair gently. "They are good to have around, sometimes," he added.

"Well, as much as I'd like to keep watching your antics, Maitimo and I have to go. We promised Findaráto that we would check with him and see if he is ready for the trip. Perhaps we will see you at the mid-day meal, before the three of us ride for Alqualondë," Findekáno said.

"Káno is right. I would stay with you and make sure that my brothers are not up to any more of their antics, but it's getting late. If they bother you again, just let me know about it," Maitimo told Arakáno.

He was still unhappy with the twins for their stunt, but Arakáno felt more annoyed by the fatherly attitude of his older brother and his cousin. He wanted the two out of there just as bad as the twins did, before Findekáno and Maitimo could embarrass them even further.

"It will be all right," he said. "Thank you, again, for helping out," Arakáno added, remembering how gracious Maitimo had been when saying that he believed his young cousin wise and polite.

"Don't mention it. And have a nice day. My brothers, I'm sorry for being mean to you, but you had it coming. I don't want to leave before we make peace. Promise me that you will be good and behave?"

"We promise," they murmured, each receiving a kiss on the forehead for it. "And could you stop treating us like children?" one of them muttered, but, by then, Maitimo had already walked away and he pretended not to hear him.

"Good bye to you too!" he said, without turning back, as he adjusted his cloak.

"I know you can handle these two. Take care, baby brother," Findekáno said, patting Arakáno's shoulder and following Maitimo. "Fare well, young ones," he snickered, knowing that indignant looks followed him all the way out of the hall.

After Findekáno and Maitimo had left, Arakáno looked at one twin, then the other, telling himself that it had been a _wonderful_ start to his day. 

They spent over three hours in the vast wine cellar, shivering in chill air at first and then warming up as they sampled each vintage on their new list. Arakáno had decided to put the twin guessing incident behind him, finding that his cousins’ company was quite pleasant, after all. As they walked among the rows of barrels and shelves filled with dusty bottles of wine probably older than themselves, they laughed, passing goblets from one to the other. The brothers told Arakáno many amusing stories about their outdoors adventures, the pranks they pulled or fallen victims to in such a large family and surrounded by no less than five older brothers. To the stately young prince, accustomed to living within the walls of the city and being waited on hand and foot, sometimes, the mental picture of a cramped kitchen, full of bustling Fëanorians, preparing and packing food for a road-trip was rather strange. Yet he found himself longing for the warmth and the joy he imagined his cousins sharing, in such a private and homely atmosphere. He could see why Findekáno felt at ease in their uncle's home and why he always came back with such fond memories. _'Well, that and some other reasons,'_ Arakáno snickered to himself.

After all that time spent laughing, labeling and sampling, the three became quite woozy, walking briskly from the King's cellar to the mansion that housed Nolofinwë and his family. The twins' backpacks were put to good use as the three carried a few bottles of the vintage they found most suitable to their taste, for further... examination. Arakáno made a hasty excuse to one of the kitchen staff, sending word to his parents that he and his cousins would not be joining them for the mid-day meal. Their flushed cheeks, gleaming eyes and slurred words must have told the dignified Elf more than he needed to know, but he bowed and carried the message, volunteering to ensure that something to eat was brought to the young princes in Arakáno's chambers. The idea was welcomed with eager nods and the cousins realized that the effect of wine had been all the more potent on empty stomachs.

So they did not meet Maitimo and Findekáno for lunch, but cleaned the plateau of delicacies that the same quiet Elf had delivered to the last crumb, sipping on the wine they had smuggled and ignoring the water pitcher that had been brought with their meal.

After lunch, the three Elves moved to Arakáno's bedroom, sprawling on the soft carpet in front of his large bed. Bottles and goblets at hand, they made themselves comfortable, and the twins produced a deck of cards, Pityo starting to shuffle them. Being too inebriated to do anything out-of-doors, they decided to play cards, share some more amusing tales and, maybe, get some sleep before they could join their kinsmen for dinner. Arakáno missed the twins' silent exchange, as one of the brothers eyed the bed and the other winked, grinning.

As a small amount of coin passed from one player to the other and the bottles were soon emptied, Arakáno thought that the day had not been so bad, after all. His head swam in a pleasant haze but his companions appeared no less affected and they would all burst into gales of laughter when one of them lost count of the game and stared dumbstruck at the cards in his hands. Yes, it had all turned out quite amusing for Arakáno, despite his previous anxiousness. 

That was before strange things started happening. And they did...

When Arakáno saw Telvo abandoning the game and lying down at his brother's side, resting his head on Pityo's thigh, he did not find it peculiar. After all, the twins were very close, both in mind and body, rarely separated and even then, only for short amounts of time. 

Pityo unbraided the small plait that Maitimo had put in his brother's hair earlier, combing the red tresses with his fingers. But Arakáno did not mind. He knew that the catty one who enjoyed having someone playing with his silky hair was the younger twin.

The first time Arakáno noticed Telvo's hand caressing his brother's arm, he waved it off and paid no mind. But when that hand traveled lower and sneaked beneath Pityo's unlaced tunic, Arakáno gaped and blinked to clear his vision.

 _'Nah... I'm drunk!'_ he muttered to himself, watching Pityo as his cousin put down his cards, showing Arakáno the winning hand. He ran his fingers through his brother's coppery tresses and smiled lovingly, rewarded with a genuine purr. But Arakáno did not notice, as he was busy counting his gold pieces and shuffling the cards.

Two or three rounds later, as the two played and Telvo recounted one of Huan's many misadventures in their home, Arakáno found himself gaping once more, not so convinced that his eyes played tricks on him any longer. Pityo had taken a sip form his goblet and a few drops of red liquid dribbled from the corner of his mouth. His brother propped himself on one elbow and wiped the wine with the forefinger of his other hand. The twins exchanged a smoldering look as Pityo licked his brother's finger, slowly taking the digit into his mouth and sucking. Hard.

 _'Varda's stars! What the…?!'_ Arakáno stared. There was no mistaking that gesture for anything else. Still, he clung to the idea that his drunken state caused him to interpret what he saw in lustful ways. So he pretended not to notice, fastening his eyes to the cards in his hand. But the image of that slender finger disappearing between full, rosy lips danced before his eyes and a strange tingle spread across his skin. He could no longer concentrate on the game, and lost the following rounds, but it mattered little, as most of Arakáno's attention was taken by the effort to not stare blatantly at the two Elves before him.

Eventually, Telvo's hands became bolder and found their way beneath his brother's shirt, undoing some of the laces and tickling Pityo with feathery caresses.

"Why are you distracting me so, brother? Can't you seen I am winning here?" Pityo protested laughingly.

"You'd be winning a lot more of you put your cards aside and came here," Telvo answered, crooking his finger in a ‘get over here’ motion and flashing his brother a teasing smile. Pityo looked down at him, bemused, pretending to think about it. He rolled his eyes, carefully set his cards on the floor and snaked a hand beneath Telvo's head, lifting him, as he bent above his brother.

"Excuse me a moment, Arakáno," he said as his mouth descended to meet Telvo's inviting lips and the two shared a heated kiss. The younger twin tangled his fingers in his brother's hair and arched his back, meeting Pityo's wandering hand, as the later searched beneath Telvo's clothing and caressed the taut muscles of his abdomen.

Arakáno shook his head in a futile attempt to dispel the vision before him. He blinked rapidly, but they were still there, kissing each other passionately. He dropped his cards and they scattered on the floor, while Arakáno resolved to stare and wait for them to finish, to say something. He was also aware of how hot and uncomfortable his clothes had become, his body responding to the scene unfolding before him, as his mesmerized eyes drew in the exquisite beauty of his cousins.

"No, I'm not imagining things...," he muttered under his breath.

"Mmmmmm....," came the muffled reply and Arakáno gulped as he saw Pityo pawing his brother’s groin and stroking the growing bulge through the fabric of Telvo's leggings.

"No, you are not imagining things," the older twin said, tearing his mouth away from the sweet torment. "But I hope you do like what you see...," he continued in a sultry tone, peering into his cousin's azure eyes and grinning.

"I... er...," Arakáno stammered. "Ah, what can I say... I'm quite, uh... surprised," he managed, feeling heat rising in his cheeks.

"Is it a good surprise or a bad surprise?" Telvo inquired sweetly, still resting his head on his brother's thigh. His hands, however, did not sit idly, making quick work of all the laces his fingers encountered, pulling the tunic and shirt apart and exposing his brother’s chest.

Arakáno's eyes roamed over the expanse of flawless skin and muscle, blushing scarlet when he met Pityo's eyes and his cousin's lascivious grin.

"You enjoy what you see, I take it," the latter said.

"Of course he does. Isn't that right, cousin?" Telvo asked, amused by Arakáno's predicament and the becoming blush that made his dark haired cousin so cute it was becoming difficult to keep from pouncing on him.

"Well... yes," Arakáno sighed, trying to relax and calm the fluttering of his heart. _'I must look like a fool, staring at them as if I've never seen two people kissing before,'_ he scolded himself. "You just surprised me, that's all." 

"You still didn't tell us if it's a good surprise or an unpleasant one," Telvo insisted.

Taking a generous sip from his goblet, Arakáno smiled. 

"Actually, it should not be such a surprise. After all, my brother told me some things...," he trailed off.

A spark of interest lit both pairs of grey eyes and the twins knelt in front of Arakáno, waiting for an explanation.

"What did Findekáno say?" Pityo asked.

 _'At least I think it was him,'_ Arakáno told himself. _'Remember: Pityo on the right and Telvo on the left.'_

"Oh, my brother talks about you a lot," he said, grinning as he saw the surprise on the twins' faces.

"He does?" both asked at the same time.

"Yes. About you two, about all your family and the things that happen in your home when he is over there. But mostly, he talks about Maitimo."

The twins exchanged a fond and knowing look.

"Yea, we know what that is like. Maitimo drones about Findekáno all the time. When we get bored, we just shoo him away and he usually goes to drive Atar out of his mind with ‘Findekáno this, Findekáno that’," Telvo said. "What does your brother say about us? Good things, I hope."

"Mostly...And no, I'm not telling you anything else. That would mean betraying my brother's trust. Besides, he's never complained about you two," Arakáno still had the presence of mind to take evasive action against some uncomfortable confession.

"That would be mostly because we've not bothered him too much. Maitimo would hang us by our toes and leave us like that if we pulled even the smallest prank on Findekáno. It used to be way more fun when we were younger and our brother was not so head over heels in love with yours," Pityo answered.

"Pah! I think Findekáno was besotted with your brother since before I was even conceived," Arakáno laughed. "Amil tells me that when I was a small babe, just learning how to speak, the first words that I learned were 'Ata', 'Amme', 'Káno' and some silly mumble that was supposed to mean 'Maitimo'."

"Oh, you think _that's_ funny? You should have seen all our brothers rolling their eyes and desperately trying not to laugh when Atar attempted explaining to us that Findekáno is not our brother. Not that it makes any difference. We love him as if he were our brother," Telvo added and looked at his twin from the corner of his eye, as they both saw the fleeting look of longing that passed over their cousin's face.

Arakáno remained quiet for a moment and then picked up the courage to ask:

"So, you two are... um, lovers?"

The twins gave him two identical, brilliant smiles.

"Yes, we are," one of them answered.

"Oh," was all Arakáno could muster, looking at one fair face, then the other.

"Does that bother you?" the other twin asked.

"Er... no. Why should it? I mean... it's your business," Arakáno replied, a little too fast, obviously flustered.

"We're glad to hear this. Most people would not understand, but I love my brother in every possible way. We share everything," Pityo said, with an honest smile.

"I understand," Arakáno replied softly. "I would not judge you even if I did not understand," he added, quite proud of himself for his words and the warm reaction they caused.

The twins' smiles grew and they settled closer to each other.

"That's good to hear. It does not bother you if we exchange kisses and caresses, then," one of them said.

Arakáno shook his head and bit his lip before he could tell them that it did not bother him _at all_. On quite the contrary, he had found the sight utterly fascinating.

"Do you have a lover, cousin?" Telvo inquired, amused by the way their cousin started.

"Maybe...," Arakáno answered evasively. "Why?" he added and felt like slapping himself for the slip.

"Curiosity... I guess," Telvo replied, quite sure that his cousin was unwilling to admit that he did not have any lovers. Indeed, the Fëanorion's assumption was confirmed on the spot when Arakáno said, in a quiet, almost shy voice:

"I have not had any male lovers. And you? Save for each other, I mean," he tried to draw the focus away from himself.

"Eh... we bedded one of father's apprentices for a while. Atar threw a fit, of course. But he got over it… eventually," Pityo snickered. "Did you ever want one, or are you partial to maidens?"

Taken aback again, Arakáno tried to collect his wits and think of a good answer. Eventually, he shrugged and said the first thing that popped into his head.

"I don't know. I mean, I've kissed a few maidens, played around a little..."

 _'Sweet Eru, he's a...'_ Telvo began, in his brother's mind, but Pityo hushed him immediately, focusing on their cousin instead.

"It's not like I can fool around with anyone here without the whole city talking about it the next day," Arakáno said, trying to explain himself and knowing that the further he spoke, the deeper he dug a hole for himself. 

"You have a point there, cousin. Maybe you should come and spend some time with us," Pityo told him with a wink.

"You'll have me corrupted in no time," Arakáno replied with what he thought was a witty remark.

 _'Aha... So that's what the Nolofinwions think we're doing...'_ Telvo spoke silently, to his brother only.

 _'Care to prove him right?'_ Pityo answered. He knew that Arakáno's words came from his father and he felt like making a scene about it, but then... he had a much better way to extract revenge for the insult to himself and his family.

 _'By all means. He is a fine catch. It should be fun. Besides, his dear father will go insane when he finds out. First Findekáno, then Irissë and now this pretty one...'_ Telvo agreed and the two shared a brief kiss before turning to Arakáno.

"Ha! Are you interested in being... corrupted?" they asked their cousin, roguish smiles playing on their lips.

"Maybe... You know, the way my brother talks about it, I am sorely tempted."

"Hmm? Findekáno shares... details with you?" his cousins grinned from ear to ear.

"Sometimes. I asked him to tell me about it. Besides, I read some of his crappy poetry and I was curious about the mechanics of it and all," Arakáno answered, a little bothered by the fact that the twins burst into gales of laughter.

"Aha! So he has piqued your curiosity?" Pityo pursued the matter, thinking that his cousin might not be so hard to seduce, despite his usual aloofness.

"Yes. But it's not just that. I've seen Findekáno and Maitimo together, holding hands, kissing and touching each other, when they thought that nobody was watching. There were times when they did not quite make it to my brother's chambers with all their clothes on. It's not like I was spying on them, but it's hard not to notice when we all live in the same house."

"Say no more. We've caught them in much more compromising situations than a little undressed," Telvo laughed. "But tell me, did you like what you saw? Do you find out brother attractive?" he peered at Arakáno from beneath his thick lashes.

"Er... who doesn’t find your brother attractive?" their cousin answered, wondering where the conversation was going.

"Hmmm...," Pityo mused. “You know, watching Maitimo is one way to get a crush on a hot red-head. Here is another," he finished, getting up and hauling his smirking brother with him. In less than a minute, they stripped each other of all their clothing, tossing them in a pile on the floor. When they were done, they both turned to Arakáno and posed for him, in all their naked and aroused glory.

Their cousin sat on the floor, dumbstruck, gaping at them, his blue eyes very close to popping out of his head. He did not breathe or blink for quite a while, looking both of them up and down. The twins' enticing smiles never wavered and both felt incredibly aroused by Arakáno's awe-struck perusal. The dark haired Elf watched his cousins as his mind scrambled with bits and pieces of incoherent thought. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had never seen anything so beautiful before. And his body responded a lot faster than his wine-soaked brain, delicious heat pooling in his loins.

Arakáno's eyes eventually focused between his cousins' legs and he blinked several times, gulping audibly. Gods, they were both magnificent and absolutely identical. His own hardening member throbbed, making him gasp, still at a loss about what he should say or do. He tore his gaze from his cousins' bodies and looked at their beautiful faces, marking the playful expressions they displayed. There were flames smoldering in their grey eyes and they stood there, making an offering that not even a Vala could refuse. 

As Arakáno stared, stared and stared some more, the brothers were beginning to wonder whether that was all he would be able to do. Meeting his huge, blue eyes, Telvo asked him: 

"Well…? What are you still sitting there for?"

"I'm counting your freckles," Arakáno blurted and all three laughed uproariously. The twins leaned on each other, wiping tears from their eyes and trying to stop giggling.

"Ai, cousin, that was priceless!" Pityo managed, gasping for breath. 

"Well, you've removed the braid from your brother's hair. How else am I supposed to tell you apart?" Arakáno asked, but didn't really wait for an answer. He raised himself on shaky legs, head spinning something awful, and he swayed over to the twins, grabbing Pityo without warning. He plunged his fingers in his cousin's hair, tilting his head to the side and licking his throat, before picking a very visible spot to leave a mark. He bit and sucked the soft skin, making Pityo mewl in pleasure and pain.

"There, problem solved," Arakáno grinned wolfishly, soothing the bruise and then looking at the beautiful Elf in his arms with a proud smirk. Pityo's eyes were glazed and there was an incredulous look on his face. 

The other twin laughed and whistled appreciatively. Before either of his cousins could say anything, Arakáno crushed his lips over Pityo's and kissed him thoroughly. Thus occupied, he backed his cousin to the bed, distracting him with both mouth and hands and enjoying the way Pityo's naked skin felt beneath his questing palms.

 _'Mmmm.. looks like wine makes this Nolofinwion grow bold,'_ Telvo purred in his brother's mind, watching the two as they tumbled on Arakáno's bed.

 _'And hard...'_ Pityo answered, rubbing himself against Arakáno and grinning inwardly when he heard his cousin moan in response.

 _'Oh, I don't think it's the wine that's making him hard,'_ Telvo said and stifled a chuckle, when he saw Arakáno spreading his brother’s legs and climbing atop him.

"I thought... you said you’ve never... done this before," Pityo panted, writhing beneath the body that lay flush on top of him, as Arakáno kissed his throat, licking his way up to the red-head's earlobe.

"I'm learning very fast," his cousin replied, teasing the delicate shell of Pityo's ear and nibbling the sensitive tip. His cousin let out a keening cry and bucked beneath him, in response to the delicious ministrations. "Ah, but you are so tempting...," Arakáno crooned, kissing and grazing his cousin’s throat with his teeth, as his hands traveled over Pityo's tense muscles, stopping on his hips.

 _'A little help here...,'_ the elder twin urged his brother. _'At this pace he will undo me before he even takes these horrible clothes off.'_

Telvo laughed and approached the writhing pair, running his hand over Arakáno's back.

"My dear cousin, would you not rid yourself of these unnecessary clothes?" he said.

Reluctantly, Arakáno pulled himself up and away from Pityo, immediately missing the warmth of his body. He bounced off the bed and fumbled a little while removing his clothing. When he was done, he stood and posed for his cousins, thoroughly enjoying the admiring, lustful look in their eyes.

"Come here, beautiful one," Telvo beckoned him. He lay on his back, at his brother's side, watching Arakáno and slowly stroking Pityo's pulsing member. They made room for their cousin to settle himself between them and immediately launched themselves upon him, touching and tasting his lithe body, as Arakáno writhed and cried in delight.

His mounting arousal gave Arakáno enough boldness to run his hands over the smooth skin that covered his cousin's taut muscles, to tease their pebbled nipples and revel in the sweet sound of their moans. Encouraged, he let his hands roam lower and gently grasp their flushed erections, marveling at the softness of their skin and the hot throbbing traveled through his arms, straight to his groin and making his own cock twitch with need. 

The twins ceased teasing their cousin and sat back, focusing on the hold that he had on both of them. Telvo bucked his hips and mewled, when Arakáno's hand began stroking him slowly. The fingers of his other hand worked in tandem, causing Pityo to toss his head back and moan. He smiled and stroked faster, ears filled with the intoxicating sounds of his cousins' pleasure. They both cried out when his thumbs moved over the glistening heads of their cocks and teased the leaking slits. 

_'I can't... hold it... much longer!'_ Pityo panted, reaching for his brother's garbled thoughts.

 _'Neither can I!'_ came the answer, followed by a loud moan, as Telvo shuddered when the stroking became harder and faster.

"Arakáno... please... No more," Pityo pleaded.

"But why? I love this!" Arakáno replied, smiling broadly and noticing just how much he enjoyed pleasuring his cousins as he looked between his own legs.

"So do we...," Telvo answered, hips jerking to meet the delicious friction. "I don't want you to stop... but what about your pleasure, cousin?"

Reluctant to let go, but full of anticipation, Arakáno released them and crashed back on the pillows. He watched his cousins fighting to regain some control over their unruly bodies and then moaned loudly, when they returned to him. One of them captured his lips in a breathtaking kiss while the other was drawing a line of wet, hot caresses across his stomach. Then, they both took his hardened nipples between their lips and tortured the rosy buds until tears pricked Arakáno's shut eyes as he grew desperate for release. They had to press his hips back on the covers as he bucked wildly, seeking whatever of friction he could find.

Arakáno pleaded with them to end the blissful torment, when he felt their lips moving over his hip bones and closer to his throbbing shaft. They answered by licking their way up the hard column of flesh and, when he felt a hot mouth enveloping him, Arakáno groaned, losing the last trace of control. A few moments later, as he was kept from thrusting into that delicious mouth and as cunning fingers massaged his tight sac, the young Elf let loose a loud cry and his body grew impossibly taut, convulsing and spilling his seed. He did not know which twin lapped it all up and it didn't matter, because his world had narrowed to the blinding pleasure that bathed his senses and numbed his mind. He fell back on the pillows, panting heavily. He could feel his cousins' cheeks pressed against his abdomen and he ran his boneless, shaky fingers through their silky hair, caressing them fondly and murmuring something beyond comprehension.

A few moments passed, as Arakáno tried to catch his breath and the twins faced each other, huge, delighted grins spread on their flushed faces. When they felt Arakáno's hands slipping from their tangled hair, the brothers exchanged incredulous glances. They got up slowly and looked at Arakáno. Their beautiful cousin had fallen asleep, drawing in deep but steady breaths. He moaned softly when they moved away, and tilted his head to the side, on the soft pillows. A delicious smile still lingered on his lips as he rested, blissfully spent.

Pityo and Telvo laughed silently, conversing in each other's minds.

 _'Look at him...,'_ Pityo said, smiling fondly.

 _'I can't believe he's fallen asleep,'_ Telvo replied.

_'Ah, too much strain on his beautiful body...'_

_'Too much wine, you mean.'_

_'That too. We have to do this again, some time.'_

_'Some time soon. You wouldn't believe how hot it was to watch him all over you, Pityo,'_

_'Oh... I do believe you. And I have to get him writhing beneath me. Today was just... sampling.'_

They laughed again, shaking their heads and returning their eyes to Arakáno's glorious, sleeping form.

 _'He is delicious, brother,'_ Telvo said, licking his lips. 

_'And so incredibly sweet...,'_ Pityo added wistfully, earning himself a snicker from his twin. _’I do believe that our uncle’s brood are becoming quite a thing for us.’_

 _' So it would seem… But in the mean time, you and I are still stiff as boards,'_ the younger twin observed, grinning wryly.

 _'Need a hand with that?'_ Pityo replied with a wink.

_'Not here. Let us not disturb Arakáno's sleep.'_

They got off the bed and slipped away to their cousin's bathing chambers. Once the door clicked shut behind them, they flung their arms around each other and laughed for a few good minutes. As the amusement began to wear off, they started pleasuring each other, foreheads pressed and lips touching in fluttery kisses.

"Do you think Arakáno is going to tell Maitimo just how well we've behaved?'' Telvo purred, licking his brother's parted lips.

Pityo laughed and sucked that wicked tongue into his mouth, making his brother groan loudly.

“Not if we tell him first. And I've even got the scars to prove it!" he replied, tilting his head to show Telvo the mark Arakáno's mouth had left on his skin.

"That wicked Elf... marking my brother," Telvo muttered. "Ah, faster, beloved!" he pleaded, feeling his release drawing near. 

Mere moments later, they shuddered in each other's arms, muffling their cries with a searing kiss. Panting and supporting one another, they cleaned up quickly and returned to Arakáno's bedroom. They debated whether to lock the door or not, but then, they exchanged a wicked grin and decided to live dangerously. 

As gently as they could, the twins pulled the covers from beneath Arakáno, snuggling close to him and taking their murmuring, sleeping cousin in their arms. Wrapped in the soft covers and each other's warmth, they dozed off, smiling with satisfaction even in their sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading the amazing novel 'Another Man's Cage' by Dawn Felagund, I have adopted her idea that Formenos was long in existence before Fëanor's exile and also, that the High Prince did not live in Tirion, but had his separate household outside the city. Fëanor would not be fettered by Tirion's court and his... unconventional lifestyle in my stories required that he governed himself and his family by his own rules.


	4. FULL BROTHER IN HEART

FULL BROTHER IN HEART

Since the beginning of his very _special day_ , as various family members had taken to calling it, Nolofinwë had been extremely busy. The mid-day meal alone had offered him a moment's peace to draw breath and share himself with his wife and children alone. Immediately after, Nolofinwë had been swept in a whirlwind of people focused entirely on him.

The second son of Finwë and High Prince of the Noldor was celebrating his begetting day. It was not a special begetting day, he had not reached a round or significant number of years and he would have been perfectly content with a small family gathering, but then, _Fëanáro_ had meddled in the affair and blown everything out of proportion as was his wont, much to his half-brother's astonishment and trepidation.

Several chambers in Nolofinwë's mansion had been filled to the brim with presents from all over Valinor. From the Noldorin Lords and Ladies, to his mother's Vanyarin relatives to his sister-in-law and Olwë's entire court, gifts of all shapes and sizes, some edible, some not and some very much alive had poured into Tirion over the past couple of days. The initial guest list had been vast and a city twice as large as Tirion could not have hosted such a magnificent celebration, until Nolofinwë began to weed it mercilessly. But even that had been snatched out of his hands and he had been relegated to writing thank you notes to the people who could sadly not be granted the privilege of seeing the High Prince in all his glory… or so Macalaurë had phrased it with a trademark Fëanorian grin.

As Laurelin slowly waned and evening descended upon the noisy, overexcited city, Nolofinwë joined his guests in the gardens, where long tables had been laid with countless delicacies prepared by a dozen of Valinor's best cooks and drinks Nolofinwë was fairly sure he had not even heard of, let alone tasted. Pavilions had been raised and an orchestra played in an alcove, the musicians finally coming into their own under the stern eye of Prince Macalaurë. Nolofinwë's breath had caught when he had finally been allowed to see the finished decorations and learned that his brother had overworked every one of his apprentices to produce such finery in such a short amount of time. But nothing was fairer and brighter than the Royal Family, all of them in a beaming, festive mood.

Far more precious than the gifts he had brought with him was Arafinwë's laughter, his playful banter directed at everyone within reach. Though his sons had all but one come of age and people naturally gravitated toward their golden beauty, the youngest of the High Princes remained the most charismatic and most sought after companion at Finwë's court. Despite his years and his status, Arafinwë somehow managed to make everyone feel at ease in his presence, beneath the good-natured smiles of his elder, far more stern and proud brothers.

To everyone's more or less manifest surprise, there had been no need for Arafinwë's efforts to ease the smoldering conflict that always threatened to ensue between Fëanáro and Nolofinwë. Not a drop of animosity could be detected in Fëanáro's attitude and without it, Nolofinwë felt as though he were swimming in lukewarm waters, always expecting a freezing current to snatch him and pull him under. Weeks of such an unexpected reprieve had confused Nolofinwë to no end, but he could not approach his volatile brother to ask him why he had stopped hating Nolofinwë all of a sudden. That simply wasn't done and one did not look a gift horse in the mouth when the mouth in question was apt to snap one's head clean off if provoked.

Of course, Fëanáro's presence at the festivities commanded everyone's attention. All eyes were drawn to him whenever he walked by, spoke or danced with Nerdanel or Curufinwë's young wife. But, whenever he noticed that he had attracted an audience, Fëanáro skillfully redirected the attention to the celebrated host, claiming that it was Nolofinwë who deserved all the praise and admiration.

Much as Fëanáro's unusually friendly and flattering mood had thrown him off balance, Nolofinwë could only be grateful for it, and rejoice upon seeing their father's pride and joy. The High King had rarely appeared so genuinely happy before, in the midst of all those he held dear and for that alone, Nolofinwë would have embraced his brother warmly. Fëanáro too basked in their father's radiant smile and that evening, things were as they should have always been in the House of Finwë.

Gradually, as the night wore on and the celebration was in full swing, Nolofinwë swept aside all the things he had found so unsettling. He toasted, drank, laughed, danced, was passed from one pair of arms to another and released to refresh himself only to repeat the process. Still, from time to time, Nolofinwë noticed a strange gleam in Fëanáro's eyes whenever his brother's fiery gaze rested upon him. But then, everything about Fëanáro appeared out of character, although his words did not ring false and his mirth did not seem feigned.

Odd looks would sometimes pass between Fëanáro, Maitimo and Nolofinwë's eldest son when they intersected. Findekáno could hardly be separated from Maitimo and everyone knew better than to try and distract them from one another. They moved together as two parts of a whole that could not exist otherwise, exchanging small touches and whispered words that spoke plainly of their feelings for each other. It was Tirion's poorest kept secret and even the most avid gossip mongers had grown tired of speculating whether the cousins shared more than their blood-bond. The liaison had raised many eyebrows but then, their people had gradually gotten used to the fact that when the House of Fëanáro desired something, rules and laws and customs existed only to incense them. Fëanáro's fair and graceful eldest made no exception.

It had been somewhat of a blow for Nolofinwë to discover that Fëanáro's much coveted firstborn had captured Findekáno's heart. But then, he had known Findekáno would love his cousin even as a child, when he had been welcome into his uncle's house and had Maitimo as his private tutor. Maitimo was the sum of all his father's qualities, but tempered and enhanced by his mother's wisdom and the tranquil nobility of his grandfather. Nolofinwë could understand why Findekáno held his cousin in absolute adoration and looking at the two of them, his heart warmed under the radiance of their beauty, so richly enhanced by the affection for each other they did little to conceal.

Yet... what were those looks that passed between them and Fëanáro? And, when Findekáno's eyes were trained on his uncle's face, why did he bear an expression that made him look more like Fëanáro's son than his own? Nolofinwë wondered and could not hold back a shiver of uneasy jealousy. He tried to shake the feeling off and wash it away with heady wine, but every now and then, that trio would share silent communication and Nolofinwë found himself badly wishing to be included.

It did nothing but puzzle and worry Nolofinwë further to notice Carnistir refilling Turukáno's glass as often as possible, while drawing him into some fascinating conversation that seemed to take them hours to finish. Nor did it make him feel better to see Arakáno happily sandwiched between Fëanáro's twins, for Nolofinwë knew them to be as cunning as their youthful faces were innocent and fair and he wondered precisely how they had become Arakáno's best friends overnight. And, most unsettling... his beloved daughter appeared to be hanging onto to every word coming out of Tyelkormo's mouth, her eyes riveted on his exquisite features with unchecked admiration that would have made any parent uneasy.

But all the others seemed perfectly unaware of these interactions and simply enjoyed themselves. If Fëanáro saw, he waved it off all off with a knowing smirk and quickly brought up one of the countless topics of conversation he was so versed in. Thus, there was little Nolofinwë could do but relax, immerse himself in the merry-making and bask in the relief that his family had decided to make peace and act nice for his sake and in his honor.

"Where are we going, Fëanáro?" Nolofinwë inquired, trying to keep a steady pace and navigate through the corridors of his father's home with warm hands covering his eyes.

Maitimo walked at his back - smooth and silent as a cat in his uncle's footsteps - and the heat pouring from his tall frame did little to soothe the elder Elf's anxiety.

"You will soon find out," the answer came in a rich but undeniably commanding voice. "Trust me," Fëanáro added, his tone a little softer.

"Trust us, father," Findekáno stepped closer to him and took his right hand between his own. Nolofinwë would have followed his son to the ends of the World, blindly and led by the hand, but he could not say the same about his enigmatic brother.

But he kept moving in spite of his many misgivings, allowing himself to be guided this way and that, up some stairs, around another corner and through a long corridor. The echoes of music and laughter from the celebration were faint there, only a rumor, but Nolofinwë's attention was completely captured by Fëanáro's steady steps before him, by the way Maitimo's breath ghosted over the shell of his ear and the way his own heart raced in his chest. His mind struggled against the wine inflicted haze that had descended upon him and had made Nolofinwë so quick to comply with Fëanáro's urgent and mysterious request.

Giving Findekáno's fingers a little squeeze, Nolofinwë made another attempt.

"Could you at least tell me where we are heading, so I can spare Maitimo the trouble of trying not to trip on me?"

"No. Maitimo is not going to trip on you," Nolofinwë could clearly picture Fëanáro's smirk, as he heard him chuckle.

As if to confirm his father's words, Maitimo brushed his thumbs over Nolofinwë's temples. The intimate, delicate touch sent a jolt of surprise down Nolofinwë's spine, raising some alarming questions along the way. But Fëanáro continued, drawing his attention again.

"I could tell you, yes, but that would ruin the surprise."

Not at all reassured by those words, Nolofinwë cursed himself inwardly for having paid so little attention to their route. Had he been more aware of where his steps were guided, he would not have had the sinking feeling of being lost in a house he was well acquainted with.

"You have a surprise for me," Nolofinwë stated rather than asked, his flat tone indicating that he was not expecting anything particularly pleasing.

At that, Fëanáro stopped and turned around swiftly, the motion bringing him face to face with his startled half-brother.

"I have a gift for you," Fëanáro spoke. Nay, he whispered, his face just inches away from Nolofinwë's, even if the latter could not see him. He did, however, feel those incredibly warm hands cupping his cheeks and meeting Maitimo's fingers.

Trapped like that, in the heat of their proximity, Nolofinwë could only gasp and clutch his son's hand in an attempt to steady himself.

"What gift?" he inquired breathlessly. "Fëanáro, you have already given me one and I thank you for it…"

"So I have, Nolofinwë, and many hours went into the making of that gift while I thought about the flawless jewel it would adorn. But pretty trinkets you already have, and plenty. What I want to give you...," He paused, and Nolofinwë could only guess that it must have been because Maitimo's fingers brushed the back of his father's hands. "What we want to give you is of far greater higher value. And you will enjoy it much more than cold, inanimate jewels upon your skin," Fëanáro concluded in a sultry whisper, moving closer and running his fingers over the firm line of his brother's jaw, down the vein that throbbed under the smooth skin of Nolofinwë's neck.

There was no misinterpreting that touch and Nolofinwë gasped, shocked by the possibility. He wished to look into Fëanáro's eyes, to read his intentions clearly, but at the same time, he was grateful for the cover of Maitimo's fingers that still robbed him of sight. Faced with what he imagined he could find in the smoldering depths of his brother's eyes, he did not trust himself to look.

"What...? Fëanáro, what are you doing?" he whispered instead. "And why...? Why are you acting so strange and so unlike yourself?"

"Mmm...," hummed the Elf in front of him. "I should be offended that my friendliness and affection have earned me so little appreciation. Strange, you say, and unlike myself? Perhaps you do not know me as well as you think. But I could show you. Oh, I could most certainly show you…," Fëanáro's last words dropped into a seductive whisper again, as he leaned even closer.

Stunned by disbelief though he was, Nolofinwë could not pretend he did not understanding the meaning of such words. His heart fluttered erratically in his chest and he locked his treacherous knees as they threatened to buckle. Nolofinwë raised a shaking hand and clutched Fëanáro's silken robe.

"What are you saying, Fëanáro? Why do you…?" he exhaled the questions, but whatever else he might have uttered, the words never left his lips.

At Nolofinwë's back, Maitimo suddenly pressed himself fully against him. Findekáno squeezed his hand firmly and Fëanáro came so close that Nolofinwë could feel his brother's breath falling upon his parted lips.

"Just trust me, _brother_ ," Fëanáro murmured, and his lips brushed Nolofinwë's mouth in a feathery kiss. That and the intensity behind the last word were Nolofinwë's undoing.

He did not know how or when the other three propelled him in motion and he could not hear much past the roaring of blood in his ears, but a door clicked open and then closed behind Nolofinwë. The lock turned and Nolofinwë grasped weakly at the thought that room's in their father's house did not have locks.

But then, his eyes were uncovered and Maitimo retreated, leaving Nolofinwë to shiver, suddenly bereft of his warmth. He blinked repeatedly and, as his vision cleared, Nolofinwë could look around the chamber he had been brought to. He realized immediately that it belonged to Fëanáro.

Though spacious and tastefully furnished, as were all the rooms in Finwe's palace, Fëanáro's quarters had an air of uncluttered simplicity about them. Perhaps because so few of their occupant's belongings were to be found there: nothing flamboyant and overly ornate, no paintings on the walls, a few forgotten books on the shelves and some items of clothing hanging in the open armoire. By the window, a blanket had been carelessly tossed on a rocking chair and Nolofinwë had a brief vision of Nerdanel sitting in that chair, feeding one of her many sons and rocking the chair slowly to soothe the infant. But Fëanáro's wife was not there and Nolofinwë willed the vision away, focusing on the small table beneath the window and the nondescript box placed on it.

Nolofinwë remembered how rare his elder brother's visits had been in recent years, how few and far between were the times when Fëanáro would stay in Tirion, even over night. It was always Finwë who took extended leaves from his home to travel outside the city and enjoy the company of his beloved son and his family, while Nolofinwë remained behind, charged with the responsibilities of his father's rule. They weighed heavily on Nolofinwë's shoulders, but no heavier than the loneliness he endured at such times and the fear that by acting as regent against his will, he did nothing but turn his proud and jealous brother further against him.

For the rare occasions when Fëanáro and his wife could not deny Finwë their presence at his table and they passed the night under the King's roof, Fëanáro had requested that their bedroom be furnished with a large bed. The request left nothing to the imagination and Nolofinwë had no doubt that it had been put to good use. The bed in question - of peculiar proportions indeed, though not four-posted as was the fancy of most couples - dominated the wall opposite to where Nolofinwë stood agape, trying to regain at least some of his composure.

His eyes fell on his son, seated on the bed and smiling at him in an encouraging manner. Nolofinwë stared at him and opened his mouth to ask Findekáno just what in the name of all the gods they were doing, but his brother drew Nolofinwë's attention as he rifled through the cabinet in search for something.

"Well, is it better now, knowing where you are...?"

"This is your bedroom," Nolofinwë managed to reply.

"It is," Fëanáro agreed, busying himself with some glasses and a bottle of wine.

Behind Nolofinwë, Maitimo remained silent, leaning against the locked door and waiting.

"Why have you brought me here?" Nolofinwë demanded, hoping that his voice did not betray the anxiousness he struggled to conceal.

"I thought you might have guessed why," came the smooth reply, but Fëanáro had his eyes set on the bottle he was uncorking and thus, he missed the rush of blood that instantly colored his half-brother's cheeks. But he sensed Nolofinwë's reaction and spared Findekáno a pointed look.

"Father," the young Elf said, moving toward Nolofinwë and taking hold of his hands again. "You are much too tense. Relax and enjoy yourself. That is what we want and that is what we are here for."

Startled, and having finally heard enough slippery, insinuating talk, Nolofinwë pulled his hands away and snapped.

"Findekáno! What is the meaning of this?! What are you implying? Answer me this instant!"

Unprepared for the harsh reaction, Findekáno took an involuntary step back and stole a pleading glance toward his uncle. He could not lie to his father, he did not have the courage to play with his patience any further, nor was he the one appointed to seduce him. Lowering his gaze and fighting the shame that had begun to flush his cheeks, Findekáno remained quiet and waited for help to come from either his cousin or his uncle.

Amused by the scene unfolding before his eyes, Fëanáro kept the silence, unhurriedly pondering his next move and delighting in the attempt to persuade his brother. Motioning to Maitimo that he should fill their glasses, Fëanáro cleared his throat and walked to where Nolofinwë was so fuming so gloriously.

"Brother... you need not shout at your son. If anyone deserves to face your wrath, it is I," he spoke softly and smiled, but his smoky voice did little to calm Nolofinwë. "It is not your wrath that we have a mind to rouse. Please, calm yourself and listen," he said.

Nolofinwë frowned, measuring Fëanáro up and down as he approached, his eyes finally resting on that flawless face. He worked up the courage to meet Fëanáro's eyes, shocked by the warmth and the breathtaking intensity in them.

"I am listening," Nolofinwë replied sternly, straightening his back and adopting an almost challenging posture, while his mind raced and he tried to fit the unmistakably seductive beauty before him into the slot where Fëanáro Curufinwë usually resided.

"All right," Fëanáro nodded. "But you must promise me that you will not shout and walk out that door in a flush of pointless anger."

"I will decide whether my anger is pointless or not. Speak!" Nolofinwë demanded, forgetting himself for a moment and enjoying the opportunity to lash out at his brother.

For a heart-stopping moment, anger flashed in those brilliant eyes and Fëanáro looked as though he would make Nolofinwë bite back every harsh spoken word. But then, heat and passion melted the stirring of his pride and Nolofinwë saw him going over the mental images of how he would extract his retribution.

"Do you promise to listen?" Fëanáro asked him, voice low and pleading and altogether unlike anything Nolofinwë had ever heard from him.

"Why is it so important that I give you my word?" Nolofinwë replied, feeling cornered once more.

"Because I will do nothing against your will and without your consent. Nolofinwë, I do not wish to argue. Believe me when I say this. Hear me out and then... if you decide that it's best to walk away, I will not hold it against you and we will never speak of it again."

The whole conversation would be testing his patience badly, Fëanáro decided, but he also knew that his legendary temper would not bring him any spoils from the proud beauty before him. He was aroused in more ways than one and growing impatient, but he waited for Nolofinwë's consent, quietly searching his half-brother's face for clues as to what was going on behind those blue eyes.

But before Nolofinwë could speak, Findekáno tried to persuade him also, leaving behind his father's previous outburst.

"Atar, please listen to Fëanáro," he said, deliberately using his uncle's name. "I know his intentions and he is dearer to me all the more for them."

His words earned Findekáno a heart-warming look form both Fëanáro and Maitimo, while his father only stared, amazed by his son's open declaration. The pang of jealousy that twisted in his stomach enraged Nolofinwë further and it hurt to hear Fëanáro had won so much of his son's affection. But his current predicament was of far greater concern.

"Tell me, Fëanáro," Nolofinwë forced himself voice his agreement. "You have my word that I will not make a scene," he said, knowing that there was little else he could do. His lips still burned with the memory of the barely there kiss that Nolofinwë might have only imagined, but if not… a little voice inside of him spoke of an outrageous possibility, all but begging Nolofinwë to play along.

Aware of how likely it was to see Nolofinwë making a scene, but of a very different kind than the one his half-brother was envisioning, Fëanáro took a deep breath and voiced his intentions, trying to keep his hands to himself and not demonstrate as well, while he seduced with words.

"I want to make love to you, Nolofinwë," he said. "I want to hold you so close that your heartbeat becomes mine. I want to touch you and taste you and know you… all of you. I want our bodies to merge and my true gift to you will be passion and burning such as only I can give. I want you."

Nolofinwë's eyes grew impossibly wide and his mouth hung open in shock. For a few moments he could not breathe and his vision swam. He felt both unbearably hot and chilled to the bone, rendered speechless and surely he had not heard right. Surely Fëanáro hadn't said that… oh, Valar! But there he was, burning and pleading, hauntingly beautiful in his unchecked passion and Nolofinwë's throat closed painfully.

He shook his head, closed his eyes and opened them again, thinking he would wake and the vision would dispel. Fëanáro's words echoed in his mind and his body sang in answer, wracked by a dangerous thrill. But Nolofinwë's mind had been blown clear off its hinges and he grasped for scattered thoughts. Could it be that…? Had Fëanáro just…? Was it true….? And if so… could he... what should he say? How should he respond?

His three companions exchanged quick looks that went unnoticed by the deeply troubled Nolofinwë. While he watched his father, Findekáno wondered whether he had mistaken Nolofinwë's desire. He began to doubt his belief that, under all the pent-up anger, behind all the envy and the frustration that Nolofinwë could not always hide under the mask of perfect politeness, his father actually longed to win Fëanáro's appreciation and even his love. Perhaps he had taken things too far, too fast by suggesting to both his uncle and his cousin to make real a plan which appeared like a terrible outrage, judging by the complete bewilderment on Nolofinwë's face.

Maitimo had finished filling the glasses and struggled not to issue any betraying sound, as he had been deeply touched by his father's husky words. Despite his uncle's awed expression and Findekáno's anxious look, he smiled, confident that no sane Elf would ever dream of refusing such a tempting offer. Nobody could resist his father, it was folly to even think of trying. Maitimo could sense that his father had little doubt as to the outcome of the conversation and he strained himself only to keep from pouncing on the beautiful, tempting display that Nolofinwë offered in his vulnerability.

After a few moments of silence, while Nolofinwë was assaulted by more questions than he could handle, only one word escaped his parted lips.

"Why?"

Whether the simple question surprised him or not, Fëanáro showed no sign of it. His beguiling smile never wavered and his eyes took on a deeper shade of passion that made Nolofinwë's knees go weaker than they'd ever been his whole life.

"Why _not_ , my brother?" Fëanáro husked. "Why should I not desire you? Are you not fair beyond the grasp of mere words? Are you not pride and steel and royal bearing that call for worship? Are we not kindred spirits, you and I? Do you not burn like I do? How could I _not_ want you, Nolofinwë?"

Unnoticed by the two brothers, Maitimo approached Findekáno and handed him a glass of wine. His hand shook slightly and Maitimo bit his lip.

"Gods, he's good!" he whispered, eying his father with a look already glazed over with lust.

Findekáno nodded, but his throat closed around the wine he tried to swallow. He willed himself to play along and gloss over how uneasy his uncle's explosive sensuality made him. Oh, Findekáno wanted him as well and desire had lapped at him throughout the night, but he saw how eager Maitimo was to be pulled under again and therein lay the problem.

As for Nolofinwë… he shivered and shook, his mouth going dry and his insides burning indeed. His heart thundered and pushed blood where blood had no business rushing to and Nolofinwë's cheeks flushed scarlet. Beneath his rich ceremonial robes, he hardened to the point of pain and his head spun even worse than before, driving him to clutch Fëanáro's robe, fist pressed over his brother's heart. Beneath firm muscle and bone, his brother's heart pounded in answer and maybe it was more than desire that drove him to stand there, his whole body thrumming with barely contained fire.

Fëanáro looked composed but his eyes blazed and Nolofinwë ached to believe him. Fear and hope warred inside him as they always did, but desire whipped the old combatants mercilessly and came out the victor, urging Nolofinwë to cast his brother an imploring look, silently begging Fëanáro not to toy with him.

"You mean it...?" Nolofinwë found his voice at last, though it was little more than a whisper. He wished he did not look so vulnerable and so incapable of concealing his need, and cursed his weakness even as capitulation waved the most tempting flag before his eyes.

Fëanáro nodded, exquisitely aware of Nolofinwë's inner turmoil. He covered his brother's hand with his own, both pressing against his chest, and opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut short when Nolofinwë pulled himself away abruptly.

"Don't do this, Fëanáro! Don't say things unless you mean them, and don't prey on my weakness just to amuse yourself!" Nolofinwë shouted and whirled away, heading straight to the cabinet and downing a whole glass of wine in one swig. He turned to face all three Elves that were staring at him and his eyes shifted form one to the other, looking for some sort of confirmation that he was being fooled. Ignoring Fëanáro's desire to speak and the oddly pained look on his face, Nolofinwë sought his son's eyes, hoping that he could at least trust Findekáno .

"Tell me, my son, why are you doing this?" he inquired, anxiously searching Findekáno's face for any sign of guilt.

"For you, Atar," his son smiled warmly as he answered. "I know you want this. I know you burn for him. It is in my blood also. But I trust Fëanáro. I do not doubt him and neither should you. Every word he speaks is the truth."

"It is," Fëanáro quickly cut in, before Nolofinwë had the chance to question Findekáno further. "You doubt me and I understand that. It is my fault and I will not hold it against you. But trust Findekáno, at least. I love him as if he were my own child and he knows that I would not be here unless I truly wanted what I am asking of you."

Nolofinwë's heart stopped and refused to beat while he still clung to the protective walls he had erected around himself. Shallow breaths punched holes in them and the whole carefully constructed defense shattered when Findekáno touched his uncle's hand gently, his eyes so full of love and trust that Nolofinwë felt gutted.

Findekáno had grown very dear to Fëanáro and his brother openly acknowledged him as one of his own. Findekáno took great pride in belonging with the Fëanorians, but from that to the unthinkable, outrageous act of encouraging his own father's seduction was a gulf wider than the Sea. Only someone utterly besotted and driven completely out of his mind would do such a thing… or someone recklessly brave.  
Nolofinwë was torn between the urge to strike Findekáno for seeing and exposing his most intimate desires and the acute need to embrace him for having the courage to approach Fëanáro, where he had always failed. But, once more, the most pressing question was why?

"Why now, Fëanáro? Why do you do this to me now?" he croaked.

Fëanáro drew in a deep breath and sighed as he walked to his brother's side. He handed Nolofinwë the full glass that would have been his and waited for his brother to soothe his parched throat before speaking.

"Why now?" he repeated the question, shrugging minutely. "Why not before, you should ask. What took me so long? I don't know, Nolofinwë. Many reasons. Our families... the distance between us... other matters that claimed my attention. I have wronged you, my brother, from the time you were born and then, when you were just an innocent child seeking approval and affection. I have made you believe that I hate you and there was a time when I must admit that I did wish you'd never been born. But I was _wrong!_ Nolofinwë, instead of giving you what you truly deserve, I have made you feel that I think little of you, that you mean nothing to me but a relation that I tolerate for father's sake. But it is _wrong!_ It is false. It is posturing for the sake of… I do not even know for the sake of what anymore. For the sake of my pride and to hide my fear of you," Fëanáro lowered his eyes and seemed to grope for his next words. "I feared you, Nolofinwë and I still do, because I see that you have grown into everything I am not and yet you burn just as bright. You have become a better Elf in my despite and I see that you have blossomed through scorn, all the fairer for it. And I ask myself now… what would love make of you? What would it make of _me?_ "

Fëanáro paused to pour himself a glass of wine and take a long sip, collecting his thoughts and looking for the strength to continue.

Hearing such words, Nolofinwë could only hold his breath and pray that he was not merely dreaming. He expected Fëanáro to snap out of whatever possessed him and revert to back to his old self, to tell Nolofinwë that the joke was on him. But his brother continued to speak in the same manner, a serious and intense look on his face.

"You know me well enough to see that it is not easy for me to tell you these things. It pains me to admit my faults and it shames me also. But simple apologies are not enough. If I had but a little of your trust, I could show you. I would beg you for a chance to right things between us. There is desire, I can feel it in you as alive and calling to be unchained as it is in me. Could we not start from there?"

In the opposite side of the room, Findekáno slapped a hand over his mouth to suppress an exclamation of surprise. Despite all that he had spoken with his uncle and Maitimo, he had not expected to hear the proud Fëanáro saying such words. He truly cared, then, and he honestly wished to win Nolofinwë over. It was more than just skin deep, so much more, and the young Elf's wide eyes searched his lover's for confirmation. Maitimo nodded, his smile full of understanding and hope, but beneath it, concern and jealousy flicked into life before Maitimo could stamp them out.

"Will you have faith in me, brother, or is it to late to ask for it?" Fëanáro finished, enveloping Nolofinwë in a gaze so full of longing his own eyes misted over and he held his breath for the answer.

Nolofinwë tore his eyes away with great effort, even as inside him the very core of his being shifted, inexorably drawn toward his brother. He shook his head slowly, as if to negate his capitulation, but gave in, all the same. With a shuddering sigh, Nolofinwë put away the glass in his hand and reached out for Fëanáro, grasping his shoulders with both hands. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Fëanáro's mouth, closing his eyes and trying to contain the intense emotions raging through him.

"It is never too late, Fëanáro," he breathed at last and shuddered when Fëanáro's arms came around him and pulled him closer. A warm hand caressed his back and then plunged in his unbound hair, as Fëanáro whispered kisses on his skin.

"Thank you. Thank you, brother. For this, and for everything else, I will spare no effort in making sure you never regret your choice."

Nolofinwë raised his eyes to meet Fëanáro's and he nearly came undone beneath the unchecked tenderness in his brother's gaze. It was then that he knew he would not be able or willing to say 'no', regardless of what Fëanáro would ask of him. His hands slipped down his brother's chest and completed the embrace, bringing their bodies closer together than they had ever been. They both shuddered and grew taut, but pressed closer still, arms straining and hands groping for more. Nolofinwë's lips parted before a breathless moan and his brother drank it greedily, crushing their mouths together and issuing a groan of unmistakable relief.

Across the room, Findekáno threw himself into Maitimo's arms and kissed him hungrily. Maitimo clutched the back of his lover's head, unraveling the gold-tinted braids and moaning with fresh arousal as Findekáno's mouth drew a line of fire along his throat. He thrust into the heat plastered against him but his eyes strayed to his father when Fëanáro raised his head and searched for him. He was clutching Nolofinwë to him and Nolofinwë went willingly, resting his head on his brother's shoulder and trying to anchor himself into the reality of the moment. When his eyes met Maitimo's, Fëanáro smiled gloriously, triumphantly and with no small amount of relief, making his son shiver and swell with love too great to be contained.

Relieved that the hardest part was now behind him, Fëanáro reluctantly removed his arms from around the body that felt so good pressed against his own. He cupped Nolofinwë's cheeks, making his brother look up and he met the dreamy look on Nolofinwë's face with a soft, loving smile.

"This had better be real, Fëanáro," Nolofinwë murmured, his hands roaming over his brother's back as though trying to map the warm body beneath all that oppressive fabric.

"It is, my brother. And it's going to be so good that you will remember and cherish this begetting day like no other," Fëanáro teased.

"Mmm... Do I have your promise on that?" Nolofinwë cast Fëanáro an uncertain glance and bit his lower lip, wondering if his heart could take all that promise entailed without shattering.

"Oh, you have my promise, all right," Fëanáro leaned in for another long and breathtaking kiss, marveling at how willing his brother had become, once his anxiety had been breached.

Nolofinwë was willing but by no means pliant and the struggle would not end there, Fëanáro knew it. The mere thought of it inflamed him even more and he tore his mouth away with great effort, remembering that the night was still young and so much was still to be done. He disentangled himself from Nolofinwë's hold and very gently put an arm's span between them.

Nolofinwë drew a shuddering breath and tried to shake some awareness into himself. Those fiery kisses had sent him into such a swoon that all he could hear was his racing heart and Nolofinwë suddenly wondered what would become of him if he simply let passion consume if. Would he be burned beyond recognition if he surrendered and gave himself over? Would Fëanáro take what he was and forge him into something entirely new? Could Nolofinwë preserve even a little bit of himself if he welcomed the fire on him and inside him? Even in his lust-dazed state, he knew that his brother meant to take him and possess him completely and Nolofinwë's entire being cried out and exhilarated yes! at the mere thought of it. But he was also afraid. It was too much, too soon and…

As if guessing his thoughts, Fëanáro cupped his cheek and leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want my son and yours to leave us? I will ask them to go, this is between you and I."

Nolofinwë all but chuckled when he realized that he had forgotten Maitimo and Findekáno completely. Of course… with Fëanáro, he would forget his own name before long and any other reason for being but passion. Yes! the need inside him rose and engorged him further, urging Nolofinwë to claw his brother's robe off and to ride him without restraint. But no! reason cried out. Not yet. Not entirely and absolutely. Not that night and not while Maitimo and Findekáno were still there. Surely, they had come with a purpose.

Cheeks flushed and eyes lit with lust, Nolofinwë drew back and raised his head in what he hoped would pass for a defiant look.

"No, I want them to stay," he said, his voice throaty and thick. "You brought them here for a reason, no? Something about a gift and my pleasure?"

Although he maintained the challenging posture, something inside Nolofinwë shriveled with apprehension. He watched Fëanáro's eyes narrow and his brother tilted his head, considering him in a speculative manner that chilled Nolofinwë. Fëanáro would draw back, he would recoil against being rejected and spurn Nolofinwë for refusing to be alone with him. He would…

But suddenly, his brother's lips stretched into a grin so huge that he beamed with it and his eyes turned into beacons of unrestrained mirth. Fëanáro threw back his head and laughed, low and husky and completely satisfied. Without warning, he grabbed his brother and kissed him ravenously, pouring such fire into him that Nolofinwë keened softly and thought he would ignite at the mere brush of their hardened lengths through their clothes. But just as abruptly, Fëanáro drew back, still beaming and impishly happy.

"I knew it!" he laughed. "I knew you'd want this, my glorious, naughty brother. I just knew it!" Fëanáro all but rubbed his hands and Nolofinwë found himself contaminated by his glee.

He let out a thrilled little laugh and shrugged minutely, ignoring the way reason flailed inside him. But that voice was growing weaker, faraway and utterly irrelevant. Somewhere in the room, Maitimo and Findekáno were also chuckling excitedly and the tension broke completely, to Fëanáro's immense satisfaction.

"Well then, let's do this," he motioned to the other pair, reminding Nolofinwë of Fëanáro's second born and the way he conducted his musician underlings. Except, at the thought of what Fëanáro might use in place of a baton, Nolofinwë could not check his laughter and he kept on snickering as his brother guided him to the bed. He had been so high-strung and assaulted by such draining emotions that once the tension was eased, Nolofinwë had been reduced to a giggling maiden. Somehow, the thought amused him all the more and he sat on the bed, laughing to himself, unable to tell the others what he found so unbearably funny.

"His Lordship the High Prince is happy," Fëanáro said. "I suggest we keep him that way," he grinned playfully and nudged Findekáno away from Maitimo. He spun on his heels and walked back to Nolofinwë, dropping too his knees fluidly, in a pool of burgundy robe. "What would please my Prince?" he teased, giving Nolofinwë a smoldering look from beneath his thick eyelashes.

Laugher suddenly morphed into a breathless moan when Nolofinwë saw Fëanáro there and it seemed that he had always been thus, sultry and seductive at his feet.

"Should I grovel a little?" Fëanáro asked Nolofinwë, but did not wait for an answer before continuing. "I don't mind paying homage when homage is due."

Before Nolofinwë could even think of a proper comeback, hands slid under his robe and drew his legs apart. Nolofinwë gasped and stiffened as he felt those warm hands slowly traveling up his calves, over his knees and then along the inside of his thighs, spreading them further. Nolofinwë shuddered and his eyes began to roll back in his head as heat gathered in his loins and Fëanáro's palm covered his throbbing length.

"Ooooh, homage is most definitely due," Fëanáro he exhaled appreciatively, fingers tailing over the hard column of flesh. "But first, your gift, Nolofinwë," Fëanáro grinned slyly and removed his hand, rising just as swiftly as he had launched his surprise attack.

Nolofinwë groaned in protest and blinked at the loss of that delightful touch.

"Ah, the gift...," Nolofinwë shook his head, trying to focus and knowing that his brother played him far too easily, but once he had been cornered into admitting it, gods he wanted that wicked Elf!

"The gift that your son and mine have devised, for your enjoyment, Nolofinwë," Fëanáro was saying. "It appears that our children are wiser than us and more practical, brother. They know better to follow their hearts and be close to each other, than their fathers, who often act like two dogs that need to be muzzled in each other's presence."

Nolofinwë suddenly remembered that all his children appeared to be very close to Fëanáro's, but the worrisome thought was chased off by arousal and curiosity to learn what Findekáno and Maitimo had plotted.

"Is that why they are here?" he asked, looking past Fëanáro and at the other two.

"Well, yes...," Fëanáro began, but he noticed his brother's distraction. Nolofinwë's eyes had fallen on the arousing image of his son expertly caressing Maitimo. Both young Elves had removed their ceremonial robes and their thin undershirts were partly unbuttoned. Findekáno had slipped a hand beneath the white fabric of Maitimo's shirt and he was caressing and rubbing the soft skin of Maitimo's chest and abdomen. The taller Elf had tossed his head to one side and a cascade of waist long red hair fell freely over his shoulder.

A hiss broke past Maitimo's lips when Findekáno's fingers found one of his erect nipples and began rubbing it. It was more than Fëanáro needed to imagine what his son and his nephew were doing, even without looking back at them. Reluctant to spoil Maitimo's fun but unwilling to let him lose his composure so soon, Fëanáro called for his attention.

"Nelyo, you heard your uncle. He wishes to know what your part in our surprise gift is."

Before squirming free of Findekáno's maddening touch, Maitimo shared a hungry kiss with his lover. Ignoring the tightness in his breeches, he came to stand behind his father and fixed Nolofinwë with an enigmatic smile. Maitimo rested both hands on Fëanáro's shoulders and waited for a sign.

"Do you really want to do this, my brother? Are you sure?" Fëanáro eyed him beseechingly.

"Yes," Nolofinwë whispered. "Yes," he said more firmly and then, "Please," although he was unsure exactly what he pleaded for.

Fëanáro looked as though he might leap upon him and devour him in a heartbeat, so potent and all encompassing was his hunger. Nolofinwë all but pitched forward and into the inferno of those blazing eyes, but Maitimo's voice startled him out of the daze.

"Look at me, Nolofinwë!" the younger Elf demanded.

Nolofinwë's brows drew together instinctively, upon hearing the way he was addressed, but when he met his nephew's narrowed eyes and his usually friendly face set in a fierce look, the words died on his lips.

"I am doing this for you," Maitimo continued. "So watch me. Tell me if you like what you see, what you would like me to do, what you want to do yourself...," he finished in a low voice. As he spoke, he collected a fistful of his father's hair in his right hand had and he tugged sharply, causing Fëanáro to hiss and tilt his head.

His nostrils flared and his and a feral gleam flashed in Fëanáro's eyes when he met his brother's stunned gaze. Nolofinwë's gasped and Fëanáro moaned wantonly when he felt Maitimo's tongue and his lips leaving a hot trail up the side of his neck, kissing and nipping all the way up the curve of his pointed ear.

"Delicious...," Maitimo purred, flicking his tongue over the elegant shell and blowing hot air on the moist skin. Fëanáro shuddered and groaned when his son added teeth to the torment. He anchored himself against Maitimo's hips when Maitimo took the tip of his ear between his lips and teased him without pity.

One of Maitimo's hands supported his father's head, while he delivered his ministrations and the other made deft work of Fëanáro's robe, unclasping it at the throat and pulling up the fabric. Fëanáro moved away from the tormenting mouth and helped Maitimo divest him of his burgundy robe. Tossing it aside, Maitimo turned his father to face him and buried his fingers in Fëanáro's dark tresses, crushing his lips against the mouth that eagerly savored his kiss.

Fëanáro surrendered to the sensations that his son's hands and lips evoked, letting his body respond to the caresses. Maitimo's hands in his hair tightened painfully and he issued a muffled moan as they ground against each other, hard and filled with urgent need.

Maitimo broke the kiss, inhaling deeply and exchanging a heated look with this father. He dipped his head to lick Fëanáro's swollen lips, growling possessively, but somehow, he forced himself away from the temptation. Instead, he turned Fëanáro around, exposing him to Nolofinwë's hungry gaze again. He ran an appreciative hand over his father's strong, muscular torso, down his abdomen, to cover the generous bulge in his breeches. Maitimo smiled wickedly, looking straight into Nolofinwë's eyes, as he felt the hot column of flesh rubbing against his hand.

Seated on the bed and watching the incredible display before him, Nolofinwë felt his heart rise in his throat and his blood pound madly in his ears. He couldn't believe what he saw and yet he did, because it was the most natural thing in the world and he'd always known it. Wanting Fëanáro so fiercely and so secretly himself, he had seen the way Maitimo gravitated toward his father and hovered around him, every bit of him honed on Fëanáro in ways that a son should have never been attuned to his father. But Maitimo was and there the evidence faced Nolofinwë, wicked and gorgeous and so utterly wrong that it blew him away.

A maelstrom of outrage and jealousy blazed through Nolofinwë and left his sanity in tatters. He loathed the incestuous bastards and his heart bled for Findekáno but the sight of them locked in that passionate embrace pushed him almost to the brink of release. The sinful look that Fëanáro cast him plunged through the bottom of Nolofinwë's stomach and lower, whipping the fire in his loins into an inferno. Dark and glazed with lust, those eyes fell shut and Fëanáro let his head rest against Maitimo's shoulder. Lips parted, he panted and thrust into his son's hand.

"Do you like what you see?" Maitimo purred, once again exploring the exposed skin of his father's neck, biting and licking relentlessly. Fëanáro did not shy to express his delight vocally, writhing against Maitimo, his eyes closed in bliss.

Nolofinwë would have answered if there were any words to lend his voice to. His head moved up and down as though pulled by a piece of string and all he understood was the longing to be the one who made Fëanáro lose himself to pleasure like that. But he did not trust himself to stand and knew that his legs would give out if he attempted it.

"Good," Maitimo said and snaked his free arm around Fëanáro's waist, stilling his father's movements. "Enough, Atar. Take a chair sit for a moment," he bid Fëanáro in a voice that left no room for protest.

The elder Elf issued a disappointed sigh but complied. Nolofinwë watched Fëanáro smooth his tangled hair and walk to the small table. While he did exactly as his son had demanded, Fëanáro kept his eyes on the floor, trying to regain some control over his senses. Despite having only played a little game of seduction, he found himself more aroused than he had intended to become. He sat back in the chair, legs spread and hands resting on his thighs, watching Maitimo expectantly.

His gorgeous red-head stripped himself of his white shirt and grabbed a dazed Findekáno, giving him a similar treatment to the one he had inflicted upon his father just moments before. The young Elf whimpered, holding on to his lover, caressing the muscles of Maitimo's bare back.

"See to your father, Káno," Maitimo whispered in Findekáno's ear, before letting him go and returning to Fëanáro.

Aroused and annoyed but also amused and thrilled to no end, Findekáno slipped out of his light shoes and climbed on the high bed, kneeling behind his father. Waving off Nolofinwë's surprise, Findekáno beckoned him to stand and pulled the robe off his father's shoulders.

Grateful to be free of the oppressive clothing, Nolofinwë leaned back against his son's chest, peering up at his fair, flushed face.

"Have you... have they done this before, Findekáno?" he asked, studying his son's features intently, acutely aware of Findekáno's arousal.

"Yes...," Findekáno purred, giving Nolofinwë a knowing look that the elder Elf had never seen of his sons face before. Shaken, Nolofinwë gaped and tried to collect his thoughts, breathlessly asking Findekáno if his uncle and his cousin were actually lovers.

"The were lovers, Atar, but not anymore. Maitimo is mine," he stated confidently. He was busy trying to calm his father and thus, he missed the fierce look that passed between Maitimo and Fëanáro. They both bared their teeth in identical savage grins, but the moment passed and the exchange went unnoticed.

"Atar, you worry too much. Relax...," Findekáno urged his father. "You are still so tense," he noticed and began massaging Nolofinwë's shoulders.

But, before Nolofinwë could truly relax and enjoy the way Findekáno's hands were working on his stiff muscles, Maitimo drew his attention again.

"I thought I told you to keep your eyes on me. You will have time to ask questions later. Now, tell me... do you want to see this shirt come off?" he inquired and loomed over Fëanáro, beginning to unbutton the light shirt and waiting for Nolofinwë's answer. "Well, do you?"

"Yes, I do," Nolofinwë said at last, trying to sound just as confident and as demanding. His eyes sought Fëanáro's, but his brother peered up at his son with bated breath. He did not even blink when Maitimo tore the shirt open, the delicate pearl buttons flying everywhere and landing on the plush carpet without a sound.

In swift, rough motions, Fëanáro was exposed and his ruined shirt cast away. Maitimo stepped aside and ran his fingers through his father's hair, beginning to appraise him as if Fëanáro were a stallion of rare breed and unprecedented physical qualities. As he spoke, his hands followed, sometimes teasing, sometimes rough, making Fëanáro squirm and struggle to sit still. When his son's mouth descended upon him, Fëanáro voiced his delight with shameless abandon.

Watching them, Nolofinwë could no longer fight his own overpowering arousal. It was, indeed, as Maitimo said, everything about Fëanáro was flawless and worthy of extensive worship. The way he sat there, following all of Maitimo's requests, his fingers digging into the muscles of his own thighs, to prevent himself from reaching out to his son, that smoldering gaze that searched either Maitimo's eyes or Nolofinwë's face... everything about Fëanáro set Nolofinwë's aflame so badly that he felt as though each of his senses were being flayed.

Maitimo knelt between his father's legs and dipped his head to chase the squirming muscles, bearing down on the bucking hips.

"Do you not wish you were here, in my place?" he mouthed over the hot bulge and grazed it teasingly, drawing back when his father strained upward for more. He grinned when Fëanáro muttered a string of obscenities and behind him, he heard Nolofinwë sitting up.

"Stay where you are, Nolofinwë, and I will let him come to you when I am done. And you, Atar, keep your hands where I can see them," the red-head growled, when Fëanáro attempted to press his head back down.

"Then be done with it," Fëanáro muttered thickly. "Or I'll shove myself down your throat until your voice gives out!"

Maitimo's head snapped up and a feral growl rumbled in his chest. Nolofinwë could imagine the challenging look, and saw it mirrored in Fëanáro's wild eyes. Nolofinwë sat back and frowned, wondering how could Fëanáro allow his son to treat him with such arrogance. Even if they were performing to entertain him, Nolofinwë could not understand how the polite and gentle Maitimo had become so rough and why his father gave him such free rein in the game. Perhaps the chip had not fallen as far from the block as everyone believed.

Fëanáro broke the lustful deadlock and sighed, letting his hands fall back on his knees, while Maitimo deftly untied the laces of his breeches. A throaty moan escaped his lips when Maitimo's fingers slipped beneath the fabric and teased the head of his cock.

"If you were to kneel before of him right now and let your lips taste him, you would learn just how delicious he is," Maitimo spoke invitingly, peeling the breeches off from shapely hips and thighs. Fëanáro obligingly sat up, allowing Maitimo to divest him of the item, kicking it off along with his doeskin shoes. When he was completely naked, Fëanáro remained standing and Maitimo withdrew to reveal him.

Both Findekáno and Nolofinwë stared in silent rapture, their eyes roaming all over Fëanáro's body. It amused Maitimo to see both his uncle and his cousin first gaping at his father's perfect form and then turning to each other, mouths open and eyes gleaming. They had seen Fëanáro naked before, of course, but never quite so gloriously aroused and they both looked as though they would eat him up but did not know where to begin. The thought made Maitimo laugh silently and he would have shown them more, but his father did not belong to him that night… or any other night, of course.

With a wry inward grin, he returned the chair back to its initial place and then he stood behind his father, who had not moved but waited for Nolofinwë to say or do something else except stare mindlessly. Being the tallest in their family, Maitimo stood two good inches above Fëanáro's height, but the difference was hardly noticeable when the younger Elf encircled his father's waist with both arms and kissed his shoulder. For a few moments, it became uncertain who was the father and who the son between the two. Maitimo's embrace spoke of care and tenderness and Fëanáro's features looked just as fair and youthful as his son's, when they smiled tenderly at each other. Then, Maitimo turned toward Nolofinwë once more.

"I take it you like what you see. Indeed, who could ever claim otherwise? Well, my dear uncle, here is your gift. You have but to hold out your hand and claim it. Do you want my father?" he asked, with heavy emphasis on his last words.

Nolofinwë wrenched himself out of the awe that had taken over him and dragged his hungry eyes over his brother's nude form.

"I don't think you need to ask," he said gruffly, hands itching to touch and his cock aching to slide against the thick, dark length that held his eyes in thrall.

"He does. I do," Fëanáro murmured hoarsely, his voice broken by silence and lust. "I need to ask you, brother. I need to hear you say it and be sure, because you will have me and I don't want you to regret anything."

"I will not regret anything. And I want you, yes... come and see for yourself just how much I want you," Nolofinwë boldly answered, realizing that it depended only on him to make real the fantasy he had been living in all evening. Aided by Findekáno, he quickly removed his shirt and held out his hand.

Fëanáro brought both his son's hands to his lips, before walking out of his embrace and whispering: "Then you shall have me."

Encouraged by his own resolve, Nolofinwë sat up, welcoming Fëanáro in his arms. He sighed in the sudden, undeniable closeness, brushing the tips of his fingers over Fëanáro's face, touching his lips and his smile almost reverently. Below, their bodies pressed into each other instinctively and a furious thrill ran through Nolofinwë when he felt his brother's hot length burning against his stomach.

"I want you to promise me that you will not regret anything either, Fëanáro," he mustered whatever wits he still possessed, even as his hips rolled and pushed him further into the hard body before him. His only regret would be to wake up alone between the sheets, hard and slick with sweat and aching both inside and out.

"Never. I could never regret coming to you. Only that it has taken me so long to do it. But ah, how I want you now…!" Fëanáro held his brother closer and slid against his rigid length, gasping and biting his lip against the acute need to just spread Nolofinwë beneath him and claim him savagely. "Please let me show you how much I burn for you," he whispered hotly.

Nolofinwë's lips curved into a sensuous smile and he was tempted to say that he could already feel precisely how much his brother wanted him. But he saw the fire that raged in his brother's eyes checked by unexpected tenderness and it chased away Nolofinwë's desire to tease. Fëanáro would not claim and plunder, although he had Nolofinwë wrapped so tightly in his heat. He seemed to need further acceptance and Nolofinwë pressed his lips against Fëanáro's.

"Show me...," he moaned in invitation, his hands sliding over Fëanáro's shoulders and down his arms, settling on his brothers hips and gripping the hard flesh as he jerked his own hips.

Their kiss was slow and searching for a few moments, as they both sought to savor each other and explore. But the embrace quickly grew frantic as wandering hands moved over the unfamiliar planes and valleys of their bodies, seeking closer contact and leaving fire in their wake. Their lips never truly parted, even as they tried to breathe, whispering each other's names.

When he felt himself being lowered on the bed, Nolofinwë went willingly, welcoming Fëanáro's weight and the unbearable heat of him as a blanket of desire sliding over his tingling skin. Their bodies were so close, legs entwined and groins pressed together, sliding and rubbing with every move. But why was there still fabric between them and how had it not melted away already?

With half-closed eyes Nolofinwë followed Fëanáro's movements as his brother slid down the length of his body, his hair brushing Nolofinwë's skin and making him tremble with giddy anticipation. Fëanáro was between his legs, making quick work of the detestable laces and growling hungrily when his fingers finally curled around Nolofinwë's length. But the blissful touch made Nolofinwë cry out and his hips jerked, much to Fëanáro's satisfaction. His brother's eyes blazed triumphantly and he stroked the hot flesh in his hand with such delight that Nolofinwë swelled to the point of breaking beneath his fingers.

He writhed and arched into the touch, moaning when the pressure increased and pleasure was milked out of him so deftly that Nolofinwë's vision began to blur. Ah, but how close he was and how fast Fëanáro had brought him there… only to release him a moment later. The hand was gone, leaving Nolofinwë to throb painfully for it, but Fëanáro helped him out of his breeches and climbed back atop him, trailing lavish kisses on the inside of Nolofinwë's thighs.

Nolofinwë mewled softly, fingers digging in the cover and spreading his legs further. He arched his back, raising himself in offering, but Fëanáro slid further up his body, making Nolofinwë squirm under his lips and his tongue, until they were facing each other again.

"I want to be inside you," Fëanáro said, his voice low and husky. He cupped his brother's cheek and his all-consuming gaze spoke of his need even louder than they way he rocked his hips into Nolofinwë's. "I need it," he murmured, biting back the rest of his demand at the last moment. He wanted to say 'I need to claim you and make you mine!', but even in the throes of passion, Fëanáro could not forget that his brother's pride was only a fraction smaller than his own and he could not make the mistake of claiming him so soon. The way they slid wetly against each other spoke clearly of acute need on both sides, but Fëanáro fought to regain mastery over his senses and waited for Nolofinwë's reaction.

The words Fëanáro had spoken caused Nolofinwë's heart to rise in his throat and his whole body tensed. Could he truly let Fëanáro do what he had so wantonly expressed? He wanted it, gods… he needed it more than he could ever say with words, but should he not be the one to take rather than be taken? Would Fëanáro accept his body to be mastered like that? Would Nolofinwë even dare ask for such a thing?

His stillness and his silence brought a look of concern on Fëanáro's face. Something surfaced in those blazing eyes and cooled Fëanáro's lust a fraction.

"Forgive me, brother... I'm rushing this and pressing my need, as always," a self-deprecating smile curved that sensual mouth. "I do not mean to hurt you and I will only do what you desire me to. Please believe that and tell me what you want," he spoke, and the tender look in his eyes warmed Nolofinwë's heart.

"I want you," Nolofinwë whispered, hands roaming over Fëanáro's back and grasping his buttocks. Raising his own hips beneath his brother, he pressed Fëanáro down forcefully and their swollen lengths throbbed painfully between them.

"Have you done this before?" Fëanáro insisted, fighting the surge of lust Nolofinwë's brazen movement had caused.

"Yes, I have," Nolofinwë nodded. He was rewarded with a grimace that Fëanáro could not suppress and Nolofinwë wanted to throw his head back and laugh. He saw Fëanáro's jealousy for what it was knew that it bothered him to think of his brother taken by another male. Anyone else but Fëanáro himself would not do, according to his possessive brother.

The moment of triumph was followed by Nolofinwë's impulse to ask his brother what in Ëa made him believe that he had any claim on him? What was it that made Fëanáro assume Nolofinwë would not have had any other lovers? Was he supposed to wait for Fëanáro, until the stubborn bastard decided he had grown bored of hating his brother and wanted to try his hand at seducing him instead? Did he expect Nolofinwë to guard his virginity ferociously and then spread himself in offer at the first scrap of affection he received? The deeply resentful Nolofinwë, the one who had been hurt so many times, surfaced and wanted to scream _'What makes you think I have saved myself for you and I should receive you with open arms? I have my own life, my own friends and lovers, my own wife who still welcomes me in her bed, unlike yours! Why are you so convinced that everything revolves around you?!'_

He wanted to shout all those things and slam his fists against Fëanáro's bare chest. He wanted Fëanáro to pay for all the times he had made Nolofinwë hide behind closed doors and cry. But the glimpse of annoyance quickly left Fëanáro's face.

"Good. If you've done this before it means we can let loose and I don't have to pluck you like a delicate flower," he grinned, swooping in for a long and hard kiss.

Mind blown by yet another change in his brother's unpredictable behavior, Nolofinwë could do little more but open himself to the conquering kiss, drawing Fëanáro's tongue into his mouth and welcoming it to explore him in a teasing preview of what would follow. His body yielded to Fëanáro's insistent caresses and Nolofinwë's control quickly unraveled. It was foolish to struggle and even more so to believe that he could stop that force of nature when it hungered so.

Fëanáro spoke no longer, but played his brother's body like a fine tuned instrument, making him burn with desire, until he was indeed more than willing to be taken.

Oh, it bothered Fëanáro to no end that Nolofinwë's beautiful body had been plundered by another before him, that someone had dared claim what was his. But he would drive the mere memory of it out of Nolofinwë's mind and scour him clean with fire. Fëanáro shut the unpleasant thoughts away and focused solely on molding his brother into a vessel of quivering need. And Nolofinwë sang so beautifully, his wanton cries fanning Fëanáro's lust to new heights.

By the head-board, Maitimo and Findekáno ceased their frantic exploration of each other's bodies and turned to watch Nolofinwë. The elder Elf's wanton display made their breath catch and their eyes widened. On his knees before his lover, Maitimo stopped trailing lavish kisses onto Findekáno's stomach and pressed his cheek against his lover's hot length. He feasted on the magnificent display his father and his uncle offered and savage need tore through him, making him want to take Nolofinwë's place. Maitimo released a shuddering breath and peered up, into Findekáno's big, bright eyes.

"He is beautiful," the red-head whispered. "But then... you are your father's son, my love, so of course he is damned beautiful," Maitimo continued, amused by the huge smile on Findekáno's face. He flicked his tongue over his lover's silken shaft and stroked him slowly, making Findekáno moan softly.

"You are... your father's... son, too... Maitimo! And your...mmm..., you outrageous plan...seems to be working...just fine," the younger Elf panted, leaning against the wall and surrendering to the maddening caresses.

"Have any of my plans ever failed?" Maitimo inquired sweetly, taking the crown of Findekáno's cock between his lips and swirling his tongue over the slick opening. It made his lover moan loudly and fist his hands in Maitimo's coppery mane.

"Ah, my love!", Findekáno shuddered. "I don't know how much longer I can take it. I want you so much... you and your perfect plans... my beautiful genius!"

Findekáno's wanton answer, punctuated with little exclamations of bliss, had Maitimo humming around his length, and desire spurred him on to have Findekáno then and there. He stood up and swiftly reversed their positions, leaning against the wall. He grabbed Findekáno's right leg and wrapped it around his waist, supporting most of the younger Elf's weight and claiming his mouth in a savage kiss.

As Findekáno's mouth traveled over his jaw and down his neck, Maitimo purred and crushed his lover closer to his heaving chest. His eyes fell on the sight of his father gently preparing Nolofinwë for their lovemaking. He watched Fëanáro pressing soothing kisses on Nolofinwë's knee, caressing the quivering thighs and murmuring soft words that shot straight to Maitimo's groin. Oh, he knew the touch of those skilled hands and the gentle probe of fingers as they slid in tentatively. He knew that look of intense concentration and coiled lust that creased his father's brow. Maitimo's own muscles clenched and quivered when he saw Nolofinwë jerk violently, releasing a keening moan of delight. He felt one and two and then three fingers stretching a slick passage and bucked into Findekáno almost wild with need, even as Nolofinwë reared and sought to impale himself further on his brother's fingers. Lavender and musk and unbearable heat cloaked Maitimo and he inhaled deeply.

Pressed against the wall, with Findekáno's hot mouth pouring even more fire in his veins and his ears filled with Nolofinwë's moans, Maitimo felt himself beginning to spill and he groaned roughly. It made Fëanáro's head snap in his direction and he searched his son's face with eyes just as wild.

The sight of Maitimo and Findekáno all over each other had Fëanáro staring in aroused fascination for a few moments. Not quite sure if he was crossing the line, but aware that Nolofinwë's arousal had long passed the turning point, he released his brother and beckoned him to watch. Picking up the small vial from where he had discarded it, Fëanáro approached his son and his nephew. He ran his fingers over Findekáno's arched back and the young Elf moaned, still covering Maitimo's skin with hot kisses.

"Nelyo... I want a taste," Fëanáro husked, sneaking an arm between the two and gently pulling Findekáno to him.

Maitimo would have complained, but one fiery gaze was enough to convince him otherwise. He smiled and released Findekáno, then sat on the bed at Nolofinwë's side. Running his long fingers over the ridges and valleys of Nolofinwë's torso, he watched the elder Elf responding. His smile grew, and he lowered himself to face Nolofinwë, speaking as their lips touched.

"Now I know in full where Findekáno's irresistible beauty comes from. And I know why Atar longs to have you."

Nolofinwë gasped, hearing Maitimo and feeling his hands upon him. He would have murmured something, but the mouth that delivered such enticing words was busy coaxing him into a fevered kiss.

Findekáno had watched his lover slip away and turn to his father with unease creeping up his spine. As Nolofinwë welcomed the kiss, stroking Maitimo's hair and pulling him closer, the young Elf felt the strong urge to shout and put an end to their game. Seeing Maitimo and Fëanáro toying with each other was one thing, but having his own father surrender to Maitimo's touch was another matter altogether. He was about to call for everything to stop, but strong arms came around him and a hot whisper brushed his ear.

"Turn around, my beautiful. Let them be for a while, and turn to me."

The sultry voice made Findekáno start and goose bumps broke all over his skin, but he obeyed Fëanáro's demand, yelping when his length brushed against the elder Elf's heated body. Looking into the living fire of those eyes that so few could tolerate without flinching, Findekáno could hardly believe the position he was in. He had, indeed, been the one to suggest the outrageous fantasy that they were so deeply immersed in. But as he found himself in Fëanáro's embrace and bore the full brunt of his desire, Findekáno could not help being a little overwhelmed.

Fëanáro sensed the young Elf's conflicting thoughts and he smiled sweetly through the fog of his own lust. His hold on the lithe body loosened and he caressed Findekáno's brow gently, soothing away the doubt he saw there.

"Do not worry, Káno. You will have Maitimo back very soon. For now, I just want a little taste of you. I will prepare you for him," Fëanáro whispered invitingly, lifting the vial of oil and smiling again. He watched as the young Elf's eyes widened and his tempting lips parted.

Findekáno inhaled deeply and nodded his consent, wordless before the unspoken question that he could read in Fëanáro's eyes.

"Will you do the same for me?" Fëanáro inquired.

"I will," Findekáno murmured, taking the vial and uncorking it, with trembling fingers. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing, shutting all the alarming questions in a corner of his mind, for later consideration. He poured a generous amount of the vial's content in his palm and searched Fëanáro's eyes, waiting.

A furious thrill ran down Fëanáro's spine as he watched Findekáno, but he willed himself to remain as composed as possible. His erection throbbed darkly and jutted demandingly between them, making Fëanáro wonder what it would be like to spread Findekáno beneath him and bury himself to the hilt. 'All in due time,' he hummed to himself, putting the stopper back on the vial and let it slip to the floor. Locking eyes with Findekáno's, he covered the young Elf's oiled hand with his larger one, slicking his own palm and fingers. Then, he lowered their linked hands to Findekáno's cock, meeting no resistance.

Findekáno gasped and closed his eyes when he felt his own fingers being wrapped around his stiff flesh. Fëanáro guided his hand up and down slowly. He wrapped his free arm around Findekáno's waist and brought their hips together, leaving just enough room for movement.

The young Elf moaned when Fëanáro rubbed his thumb over the head of his engorged shaft and mixed oil with his own fluids. Seizing the opportunity, Fëanáro claimed Findekáno's mouth, slipping his tongue in the velvety depths, eager to discover and taste what had intoxicated his son. Findekáno responded eagerly, opening himself to the conquering kiss, tempting his uncle all the more, and Fëanáro suddenly understood the power of Maitimo's addiction.

Deepening the fierce kiss, Fëanáro swiftly removed Findekáno's hand and replaced it with his own. The young Elf opened his eyes, moaning in surprise, but he quickly let them fall shut again and voiced his delight when Fëanáro's hand worked faster on his throbbing length. As pleasure rapidly spread through him, Findekáno's doubts melted away and he gave in, no longer caring who delivered the strokes, as long as they did not stop. He moaned and whimpered, pushing into the heat that drove him on. He clutched the back of Fëanáro's head and pressed him closer, never breaking their savage kiss.

Fëanáro's own cock twitched and ached, responding to the mounting desire that Findekáno so openly displayed. When he could take it no longer, he pulled away from Findekáno long enough to breathe "Touch me...," upon his lips. A deep growl tore from him as Findekáno obeyed his plea and began stroking him. Slowly, at first, but growing bolder as the oil's heady scent filled the heated air between them and Fëanáro captured his mouth again.

They kissed and rubbed each other in sweet oblivion, muffling each other's moans, quite unable to hold back any longer. Findekáno's head swam in a haze of passion that made his body scream and move faster. And Fëanáro was so shaken by his nephew's wild abandon that he would have shouted: i"Gods, Nelyo, I want to take him right now!"/i had his mouth been free to do so.

As soon as the enticing sounds of lovemaking reached his ears, Maitimo rose from Nolofinwë's embrace and both Elves looked to their left, where their companions were busy coaxing pleasure out of each other. Maitimo had to steady himself at the sight, both aroused and enraged, while Nolofinwë simply stared, unable to believe his eyes. He felt like screaming, jumping off the bed and tearing his son away from the possessive hold that Fëanáro had on him. He shook with outrage at the thought that father and son shared Findekáno between them, and made sport of him together. Anger colored his cheeks and he made to spring off the bed. Maitimo's hand on his shoulder, however, held him in place.

"Let go of me!" Nolofinwë growled.

"Sshhh, look," Maitimo bid him, somewhat comforted by the fact that his father appeared to be just as lost to desire as Findekáno certainly was. Indeed, Nolofinwë also noticed that his son was doing a mighty fine job coaxing muffled cries out of his haughty uncle. Still, he called out:

"Take your hands off him, Fëanáro!"

The words somehow managed to reach him through the roaring of blood in his ears and Fëanáro tore his mouth away from his delicious tormentor, shaking his head and trying to focus on Nolofinwë's face. His passion cooled slightly as he read anger in his brother's eyes and he motioned Findekáno to stop moving so wildly. Maitimo also rose and placed a hand on Findekáno's shoulder, sliding over the skin that glistened with a fine sheen of sweat.

"Káno... Káno, my love, you are having too much fun," Maitimo murmured, as he attempted to pull Findekáno away from Fëanáro's burning embrace. The young Elf moaned in protest, one hand reaching out for Maitimo, while the other still stroked Fëanáro's slick, rigid length.

"Atar!" Maitimo growled in warning.

"Yes, I am also having too much fun," Fëanáro met his eyes and smiled wickedly.

Maitimo pressed his right hand against his father's chest and pushed him back. He could feel the rumble of laughter building beneath his palm and his eyes narrowed.

Amused by the dirty look Maitimo shot him, Fëanáro was about to tease his eldest son further, but the thought fled as soon as he could feel the palm pressing against his chest moving lower, in slow caresses.

"I know, Nelyo, I know. But Fidekáno is so...mmmm," he purred, pulling a tottering Findekáno closer for another lingering kiss, hand sliding gently over his cock. "Thank you, Káno," he murmured, releasing the young Elf who turned to Maitimo the instant he could no longer feel that hot hand coaxing such pleasure out of him.

Pulling away from Findekáno with great reluctance, Fëanáro returned his full attention to a seething and blazing Nolofinwë.

"How dare you?!" Nolofinwë growled, lust and anger coloring his cheeks and turning him into an exceedingly glorious display.

Not quite steady on his feet under the assault of so much temptation, Fëanáro sat down on the bed and dragged his fingers through his hair, vaguely wondering if he had smeared himself with oil and precome. The thought grounded him somewhat and he met his brother's furious eyes with a smiling, fairly dazed expression.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to upset you, brother. It's not what it looks like. Not what you think," Fëanáro shook his head and cleared his throat, hearing how flustered he sounded and amused to realize that he wasn't merely feigning it to appease his brother. "I have never touched your son before, this is the first time and I… I wouldn't take such liberties unless…"

"Oh, no?" Nolofinwë hissed, his hands balled into fists. "You love him like your own son, isn't that what you keep saying? Well, I've seen what you do with your own flesh and blood!"

Fëanáro snorted and clamped his teeth hard on his tongue, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. He couldn't gainsay Nolofinwë, his enraged brother was absolutely right and so, Fëanáro gaped at him, giving him the satisfaction of his silence, at least.

"Don't you dare touch my son again!" Nolofinwë sat up and loomed over his brother menacingly, his hair falling about him as a cloak but doing little to cover his nakedness. He was still hard and flushed and Fëanáro wanted him all the more for his righteous anger.

"Nolofinwë, I would never hurt Findekáno or do anything to upset him," he gentled his voice with great effort. "This is pleasure, nothing more. You know that my son and yours belong to each other. I respect that and do not toy with them. Brother, Findekáno was just preparing me for you," he finished in a husky voice.

Nolofinwë blinked, taken aback by how utterly unimpressed Fëanáro seemed with his anger and how lightly he tried to brush it aside. His eyes narrowed and his hand shot between Fëanáro's legs, gripping his slick length none-too-gently.

"No!" Fëanáro grunted, clutching Nolofinwë's wrist and trying to still his movement. "No, wait!" he panted, glimpsing pain and confusion in his brother's eyes. "If you touch me now, I'll break, Nolofinwë" he drew in a shuddering breath. "I want to give you pleasure."

Nolofinwë snatched his hand back and it still burned, even free of that throbbing rod. Still immensely furious and aroused, he knew that his brother played him far too easily and the thought incensed Nolofinwë to pounce. He grabbed Fëanáro's arms and hauled him to his feet, yanking him down on the bed before Fëanáro could sketch the smallest protest. They tumbled on the coverlet and Nolofinwë wrapped his long limbs around that hard body.

"Do it!" he growled, clutching Fëanáro so hard that the other Elf struggled to breathe and free himself. "Quit stalling and do it already!" Nolofinwë raised his hips and squeezed his brother's flanks. In his anger, Nolofinwë, wanted the teasing and the twisted games to be over and done with.

"Nolofinwë…," Fëanáro gasped his name and groped for better purchase on that taut body. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to grit his teeth and keep from mounting Nolofinwë as savagely as his brother spurred him on to take him. But pain would not break his brother to the saddle, and it was not Fëanáro's intention to break him.

Disengaging himself from the furious grapple, Fëanáro rose and grabbed his brother's wrists. He slammed them down above Nolofinwë's head and loomed above him, panting harshly.

"Easy, brother…"

"No!" Nolofinwë hissed, glaring defiantly. "No, _now_!" he drew his legs up and gods, he had obviously struggled like that before, he had dared someone else to take him roughly…

Hot, red anger blotted Fëanáro's vision for a moment and he sat back, a savage growl building inside him. He grabbed Nolofinwë's legs and folded him into a better position. Without preamble, he took himself in hand and pushed the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle, hissing between clenched teeth. He felt Nolofinwë stiffening beneath him and heard his pained grunt, but he had asked for it and he would take it all, damnit! His own breath caught as he drove himself into the vise-like grip and did not stop until his thighs hit Nolofinwë's buttocks.

For long moments, Fëanáro's vision swam and his ears rang with sheer pressure. He tried to breathe and adjust to the burning around him, as searing as the pain Nolofinwë no doubt felt and they both drew in shallow breaths, locked so intimately. When his vision cleared somewhat and he saw his brother, Fëanáro's temper cooled and a spike of guilt tore through the bottom of his stomach.

Tiny tremors wracked Nolofinwë's taut frame and his face had frozen in a strained grimace. Sweat beaded his brow and his lips were pressed in a thin, white line, but even so, he clenched his jaw and would not cry out. His eyes had been squeezed shut against the pain but opened for Fëanáro, lashing out with their raw intensity. And somehow, his desire had not wilted, but that did not make Fëanáro any less unhappy with himself for giving into the angry impulse.

"I'm sorry" he broke out. "I'm sorry, I did not want to hurt you."

He made to withdraw, but Nolofinwë grunted in denial and unfolded his legs. It can't have been easy for him, but he shifted and raised his hips further, wrapping his legs around Fëanáro's waist. Nolofinwë hissed and willed himself to relax, while Fëanáro trembled in his grasp and struggled to hold still.

"Nelyo…," he called out brokenly. "Help me."

His son had not been sitting idly in the mean time. After reclaiming Findekáno's full attention, Maitimo did his best to dive away the memory of his father's touch. He could not blame Findekáno for responding so wantonly, as he knew better than anyone how easy it was to let the passion take him. But it was also addictive and given half a chance, Findekáno would crave for more. Maitimo loved his father above all else and would always give him everything, but Findekáno belonged to him and him alone.

Somehow, Maitimo beat the urge to push Findekáno on the bed, next to his father, and ravish him furiously. Instead, he sat his lover on the table and wrapped Findekáno's limbs around himself, kissing his lover lavishly. They pressed and ground against each other, both slick with the scented oil and their own mixing fluids. They panted hotly on each other's lips and tottered on the brink, but Fëanáro would call for them before the end and they had promised they would answer.

When word came, Maitimo moved away with a regretful sigh and an apologetic smile, turning to meet his father's eyes. They did not need to exchange any words and one look at the motionless Elves in front of him told Nelyo what he had to do. He winced and shook his head, still bewildered by what they were doing, but he willed himself to play his part as expertly as he was expected to. His eyes narrowed as he lowered himself at Nolofinwë's side and brushed his fingers over his painfully strained abdomen.

"Keep your eyes on me, Nolofinwë," Maitimo demanded roughly, slipping into the commanding role again. "Focus only on my touch, on my lips... on me," he finished thickly and took Nolofinwë in hand. His mouth quickly followed and he began laving the throbbing organ, savoring the taste that was uniquely Nolofinwë's and yet seemed somehow familiar.

Nolofinwë cried out softly with surprise and renewed pleasure, his unease gradually fading. He closed his eyes and fell back on the bed, wincing minutely when the engorged length inside him shifted and seared him anew. But the burning quickly became exquisite, fanned from both outside and within. Nolofinwë moaned low in his throat and began to thrust into the moist cavern of Maitimo's mouth, his eyes trained on his motionless brother and not on the bobbing head between his legs.

Exhaling a gulp of air that he had trapped behind clenched teeth, Fëanáro also began to move, sensing the grip on his body growing less fierce. Watching Maitimo as he worked that shaft back into full arousal was too much to handle and he tore his eyes away from the intoxicating sight, slowly sliding back and forth through clenching heat.

Nolofinwë grunted in protest when Maitimo stopped and reminded him to keep watching. Rubbing the painfully aroused flesh with one hand, Maitimo continued to tease only the crown, tongue darting between moist lips.

Nolofinwë watched and panted, his hips jerking upwards and seeking the furtive touches. Inside him, Fëanáro rocked back and forth in shallow thrusts at first, but growing bolder with each one. When he angled his hips and found his mark, Nolofinwë's keening cry washed over them, spurring them on to drive him to the very edge of his sanity. Both father and son pleasured him freely in a tandem so perfect that gods would have crumbled beneath them.

Intoxicated by the display in front of him, Findekáno could hold back no longer. Torn between apprehension and the sheer fascination of such a forbidden scene, Findekáno tugged quickly on his throbbing length and then clamped violently on release, holding it back by the skin of his teeth. His father's cry sent a jolt of unspeakable pleasure through him, and he could no longer merely watch.

Findekáno took advantage of Maitimo's prone position and poured some oil on his fingers, giving Maitimo a cursory preparation. He slid his cock between his lover's buttocks and rocked his hips, moaning throatily when Maitimo pressed back and his muscles clenched around him. He'd had enough frustration watching Maitimo as he pleasured both their fathers while Findekáno ached and yearned for his touch. But no more. Findekáno reared back and took his lover roughly, sheathing himself in one smooth motion.

Maitimo threw his head back and a savage cry tore from his throat, freezing them all in mid-motion. But the pain in his voice petered out into a deep, long moan. Fëanáro ran a soothing hand over his son's arched back and Findekáno reached between his legs, to massage the erection Maitimo had been unconsciously pressing into the bedding.

As Maitimo steadied himself and pressed back into the body he knew so well, Fëanáro tangled his fingers in the mass of flowing, red hair and motioned his son to meet his eyes. Resisting the desire to break free of Nolofinwë's hold and capture Maitimo's mouth in a searing kiss, he smiled at him lovingly.

"Work with me, Nelyo," he beckoned him in a throaty whisper, gently pressing Maitimo's head down and back to the glistening arousal that ached for his attention.

Maitimo moaned low in his throat and needed no further prompting to match his father's thrusts, while Findekáno rode him furiously. They moved in an intense, ever growing rhythm and broke free of all restraint, racing towards release.

Findekáno breathed sharply every few seconds, losing himself quickly. He pumped Maitimo's slick length as fast and as hard as he rammed into him, pushing his lover closer and closer to the edge. The prone Elf moaned and hummed louder, all of his senses reeling, aware of nothing else but raging desire.

Nolofinwë too sank in a fiery sea of pleasure, gripping the cover desperately as he tried to keep from taking hold of Maitimo's bobbing head and riding that sweet mouth even faster. He was gripped instead, an pounded into with an ferocity that made him whimper, toss his head from side to side and lift his hips to meet both sources of mind-numbing pleasure.

And Fëanáro could finally deliver a maddening pace, giving himself over to the fire that raged wildly behind his closed eyelids. He grunted hoarsely with each mighty slam of his hips and as his climax neared, he felt his very essence pooling in his loins and burning its way out.

Before long the frantic lovemaking peaked into an explosive chain reaction. Maitimo shuddered violently as tension snapped inside him like a broken string. He convulsed and spilled his seed in Findekáno's relentless grip, still brutally rocked into. He moaned in rapture and exhaustion around the hot flesh in his mouth, pulling Nolofinwë with him over the edge. Struggling to breathe, Maitimo drank every drop, aftershocks of pleasure causing him to writhe and clench around Findekáno.

As he heard his father's keening cry of release and saw him shaking with each thrust that still split him, Findekáno pushed himself forward forcefully one last time. Tight muscles squeezed around him and he screamed, wrapping an arm around Maitimo and resting his head on the glistening skin of his shoulder. He bit into tender flesh, muffling his passionate cries.

Determined to hold back until all three of them had climaxed, Fëanáro smiled in glorious triumph and buried himself to the hilt. He tossed his head back and opened his mouth in a muted cry, letting Nolofinwë's clenching muscles to carry him to the end. His vision blurred as pleasure whipped his senses raw and he sank into to the overwhelming sensation, letting it consume him.

Minutes passed by without a word, punctuated only by heavy breathing and blissful moans. Lazy satisfaction blanketed them heavily and overly exerted muscles still twitched with exquisite aftershocks. When he felt recovered enough to move, Fëanáro ran an appreciative eye over the exhausted forms of his companions, resting his gaze on Nolofinwë's glowing face and his huge, star-struck smile. The brothers shared one intense, silent look, before Fëanáro tore his eyes away and turned to Maitimo.

His son's head rested on Nolofinwë's stomach, rising and falling with the latter's deep breathing. Findekáno held him tight, soothing the angry mark he had inflicted on his shoulder. Sensing that Fëanáro's eyes sought his, Maitimo gazed upwards and an utterly satisfied grin spread on his beautiful face. Father and son smiled at each other for a few moments and then Fëanáro reached out to caress Maitimo's cheek. He helped him raise himself and leaned closer, until their lips met. They shared a slow, tender kiss that spoke of the love and gratitude father and son felt for each other.

Before breaking free, Fëanáro licked those sweet, intoxicating lips and smiled, looking at Nolofinwë.

"You taste good, my brother," he purred. "Very good."

Maitimo hummed in agreement, nuzzling Nolofinwë's softening length and pressing a kiss on the heated skin that his cheek had rested against.

Nolofinwë's breath hitched and his parched throat closed. He stared in blissful wonder at what he had only ever dreamed of. Fëanáro gave him a dazzling smile as he disentangled himself gently from the powerful grip Nolofinwë still had on his sated body. They both groaned against the loss when Fëanáro pulled out and straightened Nolofinwë's long, shapely legs.

His own limbs had grown boneless and carried him in a very unsteady gait as Fëanáro walked to his almost empty armoire and started rummaging for something on the top shelf. Then he saw the blanket he'd been looking for on the rocking chair chuckled quietly, savoring his immense distraction more than he would ever admit. Fëanáro felt the others following him with unfocused eyes as he continued his parade around the room, wearing nothing but the fall of his tangled tresses and a huge, satisfied grin.

After a quick trek to the bathroom, Fëanáro returned, somewhat more composed and better coordinated. He suspected that his face would eventually cramp but until then, the grin would stay in place, even as he went about the task of cleaning the messy aftermath of their lovemaking.  
He brought with him a washcloth and swept his eyes over a rather sleepy Nolofinwë, watching him glow with exertion and smiling lazily, all defiance and apprehension deftly pounded out of him.

Nolofinwë vaguely registered gentle, damp strokes and a throbbing ache that bloomed deeper inside him than he knew he could be touched. But it felt so undeniably good and he stretched languidly, over-sensitized but relaxed and so gloriously used. He reached out and rested a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder, wordlessly begging him to cease whatever he thought was so important and to join him back on the bed.

As though he could read his thoughts-and a part of Nolofinwë entertained the idea that Fëanáro actually could do just that- his brother immediately lowered himself at his side.

"You look so deliciously spent," Fëanáro said, caressing Nolofinwë's neck and shoulder, running his fingers through soft, damp hair.

A lazy smile accompanied Nolofinwë's affirmative purr.

"You must be exhausted, brother," Fëanáro added. "Small wonder that, it's been such an eventful day," he mused with a knowing smile, before gently pressing his lips against Nolofinwë's. The eager response made him smile and something vastly different from arousal fluttered in his stomach for an instant.

Fëanáro broke the kiss, only to move his mouth along Nolofinwë's jaw, leaving a trail of delicate kisses on his way.

"What about you, Fëanáro? Do you iever/i tire?" Nolofinwë breathed, encircling the strong body on top of him with heavy arms, his skin tingling at the heated contact.

"No. Never," Fëanáro replied, hiding his grin in the cinnamon scented mass of silky hair that pooled above Nolofinwë's shoulder. He nuzzled his brother's neck, tenderly soothing a small bruise he had inflicted during their previous fierce embraces. He wondered how Nolofinwë would explain the mark or, more likely, how he would conceal it. Tempted to bite again, harder and in a place even more exposed, Fëanáro shook his head and rolled away from Nolofinwë, propping himself on one hand at his brother's side.

As he turned his head, instinctively making way for Fëanáro's caresses, Nolofinwë's eyes fell upon his son's face. Findekáno was smiling, a content, dreamy look on his youthful face. Maitimo had reversed their positions and settled behind his beloved, taking him in a protective embrace as they both faced their fathers. Maitimo had retrieved the soft blanket and half of it covered the young Elves, the other half crumpled against Nolofinwë's thigh.

Warmth spread through the elder Elf as he could see the tenderness in their embrace. He loved Maitimo, truly, and Nolofinwë grasped that thought with both hands, trying to gloss over all the unmentionable things his nephew had just done. He could never think back on that, not when he saw Maitimo shifting even closer to Findekáno and holding him with infinite tenderness. He could not see much of Maitimo's face as he had buried it in Findekáno's hair, but he felt Maitimo smiling and he enveloped them both in a loving gaze.

Thus distracted, it took Nolofinwë a few moments to realize that the warmth on top him was gone and the delicious hisses had ceased. He turned his head and saw Fëanáro studying him with an inscrutable expression. But the distant look quickly vanished before a gentle smile when their eyes met.

"I believe our sons need to rest," Fëanáro spoke softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Is that not so?"

"It is...," Findekáno whispered.

"Quite," Maitimo's murmured in Findekáno's hair.

"Well, then, we'd best do the same," Fëanáro concluded, shrugging one shoulder in feigned helplessness. But his voice dropped low and was laced with longing when he asked Nolofinwë if he would sleep in his arms.

Even if he wanted to, Nolofinwë could have never denied that request. But he felt so wonderfully sated and happier than he had been in a long while, all thanks to his unbelievable, outrageous brother. His brother, who smiled at him as though Nolofinwë were the single most precious thing he had ever beheld and who's sensual mouth had not uttered that hateful word 'half' at all. But then, everything they had done together had been in full, in blood and body and, Nolofinwë hoped, in heart as well.

He needed Fëanáro to hold him, he needed to feel him close even after his passion had cooled, although knowing the Spirit of Fire, it was hard to believe that another storm was not brewing under his warm skin already. But Nolofinwë could not endure the tenderness in his brother's eyes for too long, not without plunging his hand into his own chest and tearing out his heart in offering. He raised himself and pressed a soft kiss on that beautiful smile, then turned on his side and settled back against Fëanáro with a contented sigh.

Fëanáro pulled their side of the blanket over their legs and wrapped his arm around Nolofinwë, enveloping him in his warmth.

"Thank you," he murmured, nose buried in Nolofinwë's hair. "Thank you, brother."

Nolofinwë shivered and sighed softly, squeezing Fëanáro's hand in response.

"I think I understand now, Findekáno," he said, brushing his fingers over his son's cheek. Silent understanding passed between them and Findekáno nodded slowly. He smiled and kissed his father's palm, covering it with his own. Fingers entwined, they let their hands rest in the small space between them.

They all fell silent and a few moments later, only the distant rumor of the celebration could still be heard. Findekáno slept peacefully as did his father, but the other two clung to awareness and probed each other's thoughts quietly.

 _Do **you** understand now, Atar?_ Maitimo inquired silently.

A short moment of intense waiting later, he could hear his father's answer, though no sound passed Fëanáro's lips.

_Yes, Maitimo, I do. You know I understand everything the first time I experience it. But this... this I do believe I could investigate further._

Maitimo could make out the corner of a wicked smirk behind his uncle's head and he had to suppress a chuckle.

_In the morning, after Findekáno and I slip out of here. We'll leave you two to investigate to your heart's content._

_What will you tell the others? With you and Findekáno as chaperones, they might believe we haven't clawed our eyes out yet, but if you leave us, I fear Anairë will raise the alarm and come looking for her husband._

_You'd love that, wouldn't you?_

_I'd laugh so hard I might cry,_ Fëanáro's smirk broadened.

_Ah, Atar… You know you're a god and I adore you, but don't get too cocky. This is just one night and it's taken three of us to con Nolofinwë into submitting to you. He'll fight you tooth and nail, you know._

_Good. I like tooth and nail._

_Don't I know it…,_ Maitimo rolled his eyes with an inward groan.

_You must find out who had the nerve to bed my brother, Nelyo._

_And what? Bring you their heads?_

_That would be nice._

_Oh, get over yourself and sleep! It'll be morning soon._

_But, Nelyo!_

_Sleep, Atar._


	5. I DO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This installment is written from Aredhel's PoV and while I don't usually write het, I took it as an opportunity for first PoV Celegorm worship. ;)
> 
> Time and plot-wise (haha, what plot?), this and the following chapter take place a few weeks after the spectacular celebration from 'Full Brother in Heart'

I DO

 _'Aaaah... there is nothing like a warm bath at the end of a day like this,'_ I tell myself, sighing and letting the clear water wash over my tired muscles. The pool has a smooth, sandy bottom, its waist deep water constantly fed by one of the hot springs in the area. It is hidden behind a circle of trees and undergrowth, about half a mile from the clearing where my brother and my cousin have set camp. Secluded enough to ensure me some much needed privacy and... to leave me at the mercy of my wicked lover.

The four of us, Tyelkormo, Carnistir, Turukáno and myself, have been traveling south this time, on an expedition that has taken us quite far from home. All the celebrations that began with welcoming the New Year and culminated with the success of father's begetting day have wearied me with the toil of preparation and the constant flow of people. So, when Tyelkormo rushed into the city and into my home, with the enthusiasm and the familiarity that is his nature, and asked me to join him on a hunting trip, I jumped at the opportunity. I landed in his arms, of course, and lavishly rewarded him for the brilliant idea.

It did not faze me to learn that only Carnistir would come with his brother on the trip. Maitimo and Findekáno are almost impossible to tear away from each other, these days, making it dangerous for others to go hunting in their company, for fear of either losing them on the way or mistaking them for wild animals in the rustling bushes and accidentally shooting them. Curufinwë is busier than ever, having all but taken over his father's work, successfully replacing a very distracted uncle Fëanáro, who has been quite a frequent presence in both our house and grandfather's. Macalaurë could not be persuaded to leave Alqualondë and his beloved for five minutes, let alone five weeks or even more. And the twins, our usual cheerful and engaging companions are gone to Oromë's halls for an undetermined period of time, probably until their begetting day at end of the year.

Thus, only strange, taciturn, but extremely intriguing Carnistir was left to keep Turko and I company. But I did not worry that he would make a boring traveling partner, or that I would have to walk on tip-toes around him, because I've been told that Carnistir has been in a golden mood of late. It's quite a mystery, even Tyelkormo claims to know nothing about he workings of his beloved brother's mind this time around, but we will get to the bottom of it by the end of this trip. And who knows, maybe Turukáno himself will pitch in, as he seems to be very high in our cousin's graces (this pleases me greatly, for Turukáno has always been aloof and closed off to our cousins and now... not so much anymore).

It came as a great surprise when Turukáno wished to know if he could also go hunting with us, inquiring in a polite and serious manner, as is his wont. My cousins did not turn him down, despite being somewhat surprised themselves, knowing that Turukáno has never expressed the desire to spend any amount of time with them before. Of course, I've never been allowed to travel with uncle Fëanáro's sons unless I had one of my brothers to watch over me, but little did Atar know that sending Findekáno with me meant that I was quite on my own and completely unsupervised, more often than not. I've never found reasons to complain and neither has Findekáno, the deal works well for both of us.

I don't think it would have crossed Atar's might to suggest that Turukáno should accompany me, as my eldest brother made himself unavailable. But there was no need for that. I was the one who let him know that Turukáno wishes to go on the trip and Atar merely nodded, murmuring _"Good, good. He could use some time outside the City walls, he is always sequestered indoors."_

Atar asked Turko some details about our destination, how long we were planning on being gone, if there was anything he could do to provide us with the supplies that we need. When Turko said that he he's gotten everything prepared and he wouldn't bother his busy uncle with the mundane details of a pleasure trip, Atar nodded absently. He rose, pressed a kiss on our foreheads and disappeared to his study, obviously distracted by greater matters. Later that day, one of the house maids told me that Prince Fëanáro and Prince Nolofinwë had been holding counsel behind closed doors for hours. As baffled as I am by this sudden change and the closeness between my father and my uncle, I have to appreciate it, because there has never been more peace in our family before and I have never seen Atar smile so often. Nor has grandfather been so full of joy as he is every time he sees his eldest sons side by side, without any sparks of anger flying between them. Thus, I shrugged all these mystifying things aside and rushed to prepare myself for the hunting trip, happy that I would be able to spend some time alone with Tyelkormo, whom I've been missing terribly.

When the appointed day came, the four of us left, carrying only light supplies and hunting gear, heading south along a route which Turko claimed to be familiar with. Every valley, hill, forest and village on our way were new to me and I have enjoyed myself very much, riding freely, as fast as my mare could go, hunting small game to cook over camp fires and sleeping in my lover's arms beneath the stars.

After a fortnight of steady travel, we reached a vast expanse of woods that I have seen only on Atar's maps. Deep in this forest which seems wild and untamed, my cousins told me that there are small pools fed by hot springs, and that is where we would be making a more permanent camp before setting out and exploring the wilderness. Needless to say, the words _hot springs_ were music to my ears and I could not wait to reach them, though my patience was tested by another full day of riding.

The sight that awaited us upon our arrival convinced me that the wait has been worth it. And my suspicions that the forest is untrod and unexplored were proved wrong. An enclosure has been built in a large clearing, fenced to keep the horses from wandering while their owners hunt on foot. I saw rich, fragrant grass covering the soil, but also hay and grain in an open barn where the beasts can take shelter, although the rains are always gentle and refreshing in Valinor. Tyelkormo doesn't know whether Elves or Oromë's people have built and maintain the enclosure, but they have also directed the gurgling waters of a little stream into a long basin, thus ensuring that the animals truly lack for nothing.

We unloaded our gear and groomed our beautiful mounts before setting them free to run and graze. While Turukáno and Carnistir pitched the tents, Turko and I prepared a quick meal out of the cold provisions we picked up when we last stopped and spent the night at a farm. It irks me that I cannot share a tent with Turko, but I did not have the heart to exile my brother to the company of unpredictable Carnistir, although... looking back on it, I have a feeling Turukáno might not have raised much protest. This is just one of the many things that intrigue me and I have to see if Turko can make more sense of the many oddities that have been happening in our family of late.

But, as I enjoy the wonderful feeling of being clean and my sore limbs float lightly upon the warm water of the secluded pool Tyelkormo has brought me to, I wave these thoughts away, focusing more on what is about to happen. We finally have the privacy and all the time we need to be together, my beloved cousin and I.

"How much longer, my sweet?" Turko inquires, a bit of frustrated irony sneaking in the question, as he is still standing on the sandy bank of the small pond, his back turned to me. He is still fully clothed in his hunter's garments but he has left all of his weapons in our camp. Hands resting on his hips and his foot patting the sand impatiently, Turko is waiting for me to cease the childish behavior and call him to me.

He has led me to this secluded spot shortly after we had our evening meal, and I am determined not to let him lay so much as a finger on me before I have cleaned myself properly, after several days of riding to get to these woods. The boys have been luckier, jumping naked in streams and pools we've come across on our way, but I have not exposed myself so, enduring the lack of proper bathing until we have reached this place that Turko has told us about.

My vials of bathing oils are scattered at his feet, and my eyes momentarily rest on them as I rinse my hair. Fragrant, white foam floats on the water's surface for a few seconds, before dissipating and allowing me to see the sandy bottom of the pool. I smile, remembering Turko's reaction, when we arrived to this spot and he perplexedly discovered that I would not allow him to join me in the water and help me wash myself. But he swallowed his mutterings and willed himself to look away, knowing that I desire the closeness between us just as much and I would not take long in calling him to me.

"You may begin to undress now," I command him teasingly, laughter bubbling in my chest.

"Only if you turn around," he answers playfully, unraveling his long braid and my fingers twitch with the need to plunge into that rippling, golden mane. "No gawking at me, Irissë," he drawls.

"Turko! You are a piece of work, you know that? Come on, I'll tell you what. I will close my eyes and count to ten. Alright?"

"Mmmhmm...," he purrs in agreement. He has already thrown off his tunic and tugs impatiently at the laces of his shirt. There is a fire in his eyes that makes my skin tingle, as it always does when he looks at me with that hungry smile that seems to have been made specifically for his exquisite features.

"Close your eyes, beloved," he tells me. 

I shake my head in helpless amusement, but allow my eyelids to deprive me of the magnificent sight before me. I have lowered myself into the water and it laps gently at my chin, while my hair floats around my shoulders and back in a dark, liquid veil. It feels wonderful to be clean and soothed by the warmth of these crystalline waters. But I'm shivering with anticipation to feel Turko near me again, the mere thought of it sending delicious frissons through my whole body. I've actually begun to count, but I lose track of it at three or four and he is already in the water, treading through it slowly. Before I get the chance to cheat and open my eyes, my lover's overwhelming beauty vanishes with a splash and all I can see is rippling water and small waves crashing against the shore. 

Of course, Turko surfaces precisely in front of me with another loud splash, drawing in a deep breath and tossing his head back. Droplets of water hit me in a soft, warm rain and I let my eyes roam up and down his nude form. His golden hair, now of a darker shade that reminds me of his brothers' coppery tresses, clings enticingly to his skin. Water drips and flows over his flawless skin, over the curves of strong, well honed muscles, in a teasing manner that I am jealous of. Strands of soft, damp hair are stuck to his forehead and cheeks, framing a broad smile of such joy and hunger that my breath catches in my throat and my insides clench with overpowering desire. I am speechlessly admiring the beauty before me as he stands, bared to my eyes from the waist up, more glorious than anything I have ever seen or my imagination could ever conjure in my most heated, secret thoughts.

The hunger for him - burning in me for a long and unsatisfied while now - is on the verge of taking over and making me pounce on him like a wild feline. And he knows it... he knows it well, as he allows himself a few moments of savoring my unconcealed adoration.

Then, his hands lift me to him... making me realize that my knees have weakened considerably. We lock eyes as his fingers brush my cheeks, traveling down my neck and upon my shoulders, tracing lines of fire on my skin. Azure eyes - like and so unlike those of his father - take in the sight of me with wordless intensity. He sees me and touches me as though his fingers have just discovered a treasure long sought after. As though he wishes to let his hands grow reacquainted to every curve of my body as it shivers and responds to him like a fine-tuned instrument.

He has cupped my breasts, gently covering them, barely allowing the hardened peaks to come in contact with the warmth of his palms. But that is enough to send furious thrills down my spine and desire to boil inside me like a cauldron of lava. A soft hum escapes my lips and my eyelids flutter shut over eyes already darkened with lust.

As I give into his touch, he pulls me close, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing me against him. We both gasp as we feel each other, skin on skin, muscles growing taut in the wake of desire. My breathing has quickened, causing my breasts to rise and fall and rub against his skin in the most thrilling of ways. We are acutely aware of that arousing motion, as well as the motion down, below the water's surface. Against my belly, I can feel him hard and throbbing with need and I've never wanted anything as much as I yearn to have him fill me.

Arms around his neck, I seek his eyes and cannot help but smile in anticipation, secretly relieved that he still wants me so much. As always, he appears to know what I am thinking long before I have the chance to speak it. Running his thumb over my parted lips, he answers my unspoken thoughts.

"Yes, beloved, I long for you all the time and I don't believe that my desire for you can ever be quenched."

"Neither will mine for you," I whisper hoarsely. "But.... may we soothe each other a little, you think?" I tease. I _must_ tease because I will not turn into an emotional bundle of raw nerves while he is naked in my arms. That may come later but now... I am silenced by a devouring kiss, immediately surrendering to desire and need. I cling to him, my fingers tracing the curve of his neck and then digging into the tense muscles of his back.

We do not stop for breath, as the kiss deepens, becoming savage, hungry, possessive. We battle it out, like we always do, striving not for dominance, but to take and to give as much as possible and Tyelkormo's kisses have always felt as though he wishes to breathe in my very soul. But alas, we are forced to stop and gasp for air. I let him pant and seize the opportunity to kiss and nip my way along the firm line of his jaw, down the column of his neck. Rosy love blossoms will show on his fair skin, but I too wish to take all of him in and sometimes, the urge is so strong I have drawn blood from him in my hunger. But I master myself now and savor the moans spilling from his lips as he tilts his head and I draw his earlobe between my teeth. Along the elegant shell and up to the sensitive tip, I play him hotly and none-too-gently and Turko's response is music to my ears.

There is no pause, only hot skin and parted lips and hips that buck into mine when I draw him closer and move my lips to the other side of his neck. I could worship him like this forever and never tire of it, but we are both growing more and more aroused. I can vaguely hear him murmuring something beyond comprehension and he takes my head in his hands, removing my greedy mouth form his heated skin.

"Mmm... Turko, I could eat you up and still I would be craving," I bite into my own lip and give him a smoldering look.

My words have the same bodily effect as my caresses and he shivers, a deep moan rumbling in his chest. Raw lust dances like blue flames in his eyes as he looks at me.

"My Irissë... I would let you eat me up, I am yours to have in any way you please. But, my greedy little love, what will there be left if you undo me so soon?" he says and suddenly falls silent, eyes growing wide and those bewitching lips curving into the 'o' of another moan. There is a tiny bit of distance between us, just enough for my hand to slide down his chest and over the hard muscles of his stomach. The summit of his erection is like a fire-brand, searing-hot against the center of my palm and I smile, taking his length into a slight squeeze. The water was warm enough to begin with, but such heat radiates from my beloved that it will steam before long, as I tug on him gently and rub the silky skin.

He won't allow too much of that either, although he swells in my hand and his hips have a better idea. But Turko sighs and gently removes my hand, shaking his head and blinking a few times as he is fighting the effects of my arousing touch. I give him a mock-innocent look and watch him rolling his eyes, admonishing me for the unexpected assault.

"Turko, we can't draw it out, I've been anticipating this for so long and I want you so much that I really cannot restrain myself!" I plead with him wantonly.

He groans, drawing a sharp breath between gritted teeth, and crushes his lips against mine, kissing me savagely. I open to his demanding assault and moan low in my throat as his tongue makes love to my mouth in a tantalizing preview of what is to come.

Too stirred to play around and too impatient - just as he warned me - Turko cups my buttocks and presses me against him. I wrap my legs around him and he takes my weight effortlessly. A soft whimper escapes my lips when I feel his hot length slide against my own heated flesh and I rub against him, eager to feel him inside me, urging him to claim me already.

We exchange a brief, _burning_ look and he understands the urgency of my silent plea. He knows that my need to have him is just as strong as the desire that he has fought to keep in check throughout the days of our journey and many more before that. He knows that I am almost desperate to feel him plundering his way to my very core. And I can plainly tell that he craves to do it also.

He wades through the shallow water and carries me to the shore, searching for a spot to lay me down and ravish me. I cling to him and press kisses on his damp hair as he kneels slowly and spreads me on the smooth, fine sand. As Turko reluctantly unwraps my legs from around his waist, I look up at him, from beneath lowered eyelids, taking in his magnificent form as he towers above me beneath the background of an indigo sky. I do not know where to point my feverish gaze: either to his beautiful face, so I can marvel at the exquisite features that distinguish him and his brothers and become lost in the azure depths that make him so unique or to let my eyes wander lower, to his flushed erection that rises straight and proud and so very hard against the firm muscles of his abdomen. And I cannot make up my mind on whether to rise and capture those inviting lips in a rough, passionate kiss, or to have him take my place and receive the wet caresses that would fill the woods with his cries and moans of delight.

However... there is not time for debate and weighing delicious option. Before I can draw breath, I find myself lost to all reason, as he spreads my legs further and lowers himself above me. Now _he_ is eating me up, pouring fire all over me with expert fingers, lips and tongue. Abandoning myself to the indescribable sensations, I cry out and gather fistfuls of his wet hair in my hands, tossing my own head from side to side wildly. 

Out of nowhere, it occurs to me that Turko may have brought other lovers here, pressing them into the soft sand and making such frantic love to them that their bodies would have left an imprint on the shore. The idea makes me gasp and then laugh at myself. Turko ceases his most delightful occupation and raises his head.

"What? What is it?" he gives me a gorgeous little frown, mouth hovering above my painfully sensitive nipple. I shake my head and squirm beneath him, but he warns, in a low and provocative voice.

"I will not continue unless you share your amusement with me."

"Ah, well...," I hesitate, unsure of how he will react to what I am about to say and unable to make something else up as he would immediately see the lie. "I was just wondering if you have brought anybody else here before." 

"I have," he says flatly. "Does that bother you?"

"I... no. Yes. I guess it would if you have done it after you and I have grown... closer," I mutter, trying to dissimulate how unhappy with the admission I really am.

"I am sorry, then," he says, lowering his head and strands of wet, golden hair fall on my skin, tickling me. "Though it will disappoint you, I have to tell you that you are not the first person I have brought here since we have grown _closer._ "

Jealously blooms cold and bitter in the pit my stomach and I frown, wishing that he would look me in the eye as he tells me this.

"Well, at least you are honest about it," I mutter.

"Of course I am. When have I ever lied to you?" he answers, looking up and into my eyes again. To my surprise, there is much amusement shining in his blue gaze.

"Funny you should say this. Perhaps you should have told me about it before you brought me here to have your wicked way with me?"

"Are you jealous, Irissë?" he asks with a crooked grin on that handsome face.

"Would you not be jealous if I made love to you in a bed that I have shared with another lover?" I snap back, annoyed by the amusement I do not share.

"Damn right I would be! But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Turko...," I let out a weary sigh, unwilling to carry out the pointless exchange that does nothing but delay the pleasure and release my body demands. I can have a fight with him later, _now_ I just want him to take me.

"Irissë... I mean it. Why would you be jealous of the people I have brought here? If I recall correctly, we have been _close_ since you were a small, adorable babe in your mother's arms. And I have been _here_ before with Macalaurë, when he was in a odd, prudish mood, before falling head over heels and becoming tied to his beloved's skirts. One time, I've shown Maitimo and your eldest brother this secluded place and the left them alone to their devices. And then, there was that time when the twins were nothing much but naughty children, teasing and annoying Carnistir to the point where I had to remove them from his side, lest my brother's anger would have exploded and the young ones would have been in for it," he says, a huge, dazzling smile spreading on his face as he looks at me with unconcealed amusement.

All I can do is growl and yank his silky hair, making him yelp and move his head closer to my face.

"I hate you, Turko!" I shout in frustration, but I am more relieved than annoyed to understand he was just playing with me.

"No, you _love_ me. You may hate my teasing, but you love me," he murmurs, his lips now so close to mine that I can feel his warm breath.

"Oh, I don't know..."

"Yes, you do," he replies. I see mischief slowly ebbing in his eyes, replaced by warmth and tenderness. "My love, you need not worry that I am not faithful. Because I am. I need no one else but you, my beautiful Irissë. I cannot be tempted by anyone else, because you hold my heart and reign over all my desire."

Ah, he is just as good with words as his father... And I always go lightheaded when I hear him saying such wonderful things. I do not doubt him, the wicked tease, even if sometimes I have to question if it's possible for me to keep such beauty and such passion all to myself. But he should not tease me like this and have the last word...

"Is that so?" I ask him, eyebrow raised. As he begins to frown, I buck beneath him and urge him to move. "Show me!"

As I expected him to, Turko growls savagely and his eyes narrow in a dangerous expression. He kisses me roughly and presses his full weight atop me. Air knocked out of my lungs, I mewl into his mouth and wrap my legs around his hips, raising myself and grinding against him. My call does not go unanswered and we both moan throatily as he draws back and then plunges into me swiftly, burying himself to the hilt. There is no discomfort, I am more than ready for him and I clutch him fiercely, closing my eyes and giving in to the incomparable sensation of being so exquisitely filled. He throbs inside me and sucks in a deep breath, tying to hold still but oh, he doesn't have to, I want him to move _now_!

Warm little waves lap my skin but within, it is _scorching_ and heat blasts through me when he rolls his hips and then draws back. He tries to move slowly and shallowly, but we are beyond that and Turko rocks back and forth harder, spurred on to mount me faster by my eager response. Lips crushed in a continuous, frantic kiss, we grunt, cry and moan, voicing the unbearable pleasure that courses wildly through our veins.

My whole world has narrowed to him - atop me and inside me - and to the caverns of his delicious mouth that I could never be done exploring. I push back into him, toes sunk in the soft sand and then he folds my legs higher, slamming down with the full weight of his taut body. There is no holding back cries of sheer delight, only a token attempt at muffling them as our mouths clash and then teeth sink into wet, flushed skin. It won't last long, it can't, we're already riding on the crest of the great wave and when it comes upon us, I cry out his name. It is all I remember and the only thing I want to know and I am unmade beneath the hammer strokes, as he still pounds into me even after he has succumbed to bliss. 

Weightless and boneless and almost blind with the intensity of the swift climax, I groan in weak protest when he rolls off me. Panting heavily, Turko crashes on the sand at my side, but pulls me closer and I go like a limp but very satisfied doll. I rest my head on his heaving chest and, through sated exhaustion, a new kind of tremor travels through me. I open my eyes and look up at the incredible creature I am so close to.

Completion makes him glow and heightens the beauty of his perfect features. Turko is a god, made to be worshiped for the sum of all his qualities, beautiful and brilliant and... mine, thank Eru! Fairest of all when he takes and gives pleasure, I adore him and I know _now_ beyond question that I belong with him. If there ever was any doubt. I would be miserable and empty without him and I would sooner lose myself than be deprived of him and his love. I _need_ him and the immense passion that consumes us both. 

Turko is intoxicating to behold as he struggles to recover his breath, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging his lips. He can sense that my eyes are upon him and a look of love too great to be contained in words passes between us. For a few moments, we bask in the bliss of closeness and in all that binds us.

Then, I rise to kiss him softly and to whisper "I love you... I love you, Tyelkormo, with all that I am and all that I will ever be."

Tightening his hold on me and smiling lovingly, he answers in a low voice, thick with emotion.

"Irissë... This is what it should be like between us forever. I belong with you and you were meant for me. I would let nothing and nobody come between us."

Far too happy to utter another word, I just kiss him, barely holding back tears of joy. There is no need to speak now, I feel all of him behind those words and I would have the weight of them blanket me forever. I snuggle closer to him, resting my head on his chest once more. Beneath skin and muscle and bone, I can hear Turko's heart heart thundering as wildly as mine and I have the exhilarating notion that it belongs to me. He is _mine_! He belongs with me and and even though I have always known it, to hear him say it might just make my heart burst.

Sighing contentedly and placing a few delicate kisses on his warm skin, I do what I do best when Tyelkormo (and his fiery kinsmen) threaten to overwhelm me. I prod and tease and don't even know what I'm saying before the words are out.

"Was there a proposal in there, Turko?" 

I am shaken slightly by the movement of his chest as he laughs in response. My eyes must have grown comically wide, but he cannot see them, not while shaking his head in apparent helplessness.

"Ah, Irissë, you are one step ahead of me again! Although this should not surprise me any longer, you always are. _Yes_ , there was a proposal in there, but you have to be greedy and impatient and would not wait for me to recover my breath and do it properly."

"Do... what?" I blink incredulously.

"Propose, silly," he caresses the side of my head and would run his fingers through my hair, but it's tangled and full of sand and his fingers get stuck halfway through, making me wince.

"You're joking, right?" I ask him with a skeptical little smile, thinking that he is probably messing with me again and honestly, I can't even begin to take him seriously, I can't grasp the enormity of it if he _is_ serious.

"Not really. No," Turko is still smiling, but I can see something vulnerable hiding behind shutters in his eyes. "Well... do you?" he asks casually... except, I can feel the tension in his body and I know he feels anything but casual.

"Do I what?"

"Do you want to marry me?" he enunciates the words carefully, head raised in an obviously uncomfortable position.

"I though you were going to do it properly," I blurt and want to slap myself repeatedly, either to shut up or wake up as this can't be happening, can it?

"Oh, you little bitch!" he growls, all but throwing me off him as he rises swiftly. "I am serious here! I want you to be my wife!" he grabs my shoulders and shakes me, while I stare at him, open-mouthed and dumbstruck. 

"Your... wife?" I stammer breathlessly.

"Don't parrot me! Yes, my wife. I want to marry you, woman! Did I not say that I belong with you? Did I not say that you have my heart? Hells, are you even listening?" he taps the side of my head gently. "I'll just have to show you," he growls and with a yelp of surprise, I find myself beneath him again.

Wide-eyed, I keep staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and raw need for him to mean what he has just said. 

"I love you, Irissë," the fierce look on his face softens and I can see uncertainty is his eyes more plainly now. "Please be mine," he whispers and gods, does he not know that I am his and always have been? Does he even for a second doubt that I would say yes, no matter what he asks of me? But then... I have been speaking and acting like an idiot just now. And I don't think blaming it on the aftermath of sex makes for a good excuse this time.

"Oh, Turko...," I moan and wrap myself tightly around him. "I _am_ yours. Always. Just... I am also completely overwhelmed right now. I wasn't expecting... wasn't prepared... ," I mumble, wishing I could stuff something in my stupid mouth. "Please shut me up?" I beg him and something in my expression makes all anxiety seep out of him.

With a deep rumble of laughter in his chest, he crashes atop me and does just that. He kisses me roughly, possessively and then his mouth stays on me until I lose the last traces of conscious thought. He pushes me to the brink then draws me back, sweetly inquiring _Do you?_ over and over again until I don't know if I am crying _Yes_ or simply crying for release.


	6. OF SECRETS KEPT AND SECRETS SHARED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by young Carnistir in Dawn Felagund's 'Another Man's Cage' and the information in the _Osanwe-kenta_ or _Enquiry into the Communication of Thought_ by J. R. R. Tolkien, I have gifted Carnistir with the ability to read people's unguarded minds. It does not apply to immediate family members, of course, as they would have long learned to shield their thoughts from the clever interloper.

OF SERCETS KEPT AND SECRETS SHARED

 

At the edge of the large clearing and facing the tents they had pitched earlier - Carnistir and Turukáno relaxed after a fortnight of travel in the warm water of the pool they had located not far from their camp site. Without exchanging too many words after Irissë and Tyelkormo had left, the two put out the embers of their small fire and agreed on going to have a soothing bath before their companions returned and the four young Elves would seek some much needed rest.

They stole furtive glances at each other as they undressed and stepped in the water, in the gradually dimming light that filtered through the overhanging canopy. It gave both Elves the impression that they were lying on a secluded beach outside Alqualondë, save that the sounds of slumbering woods replaced the soothing rhythm of waves hitting the sandy shores. 

Arms and head resting against a smooth rock, Carnistir sighed contentedly and watched his legs floating just beneath the surface. Standing, the water reached just below his chest, but the young Elf had no intention of rising from the soothing warmth, as he enjoyed feeling his limbs light and the soreness of so many days on horseback draining away. A little way off to Carnistir's right, his cousin did the same, treading the water lazily and floating on his back almost weightlessly as his eyes sought glimpses of indigo sky and the very first twinkle of stars.

For a while, they were both quiet, drowsing tiredly and keeping to their own thoughts. The only sounds to be heard came from the little waves that Turukáno made in his lazy swim and the bustling insects in the undergrowth that surrounded the pool.

"Do you think they're all right?" Turukáno finally broke the silence. He wondered whether his sister and his cousin were safe away from camp and unarmed, as they had been gone for quite a while. The young Elf did not question why the two lovebirds had disappeared so hastily after dinner but smiled instead, remembering the bright look of anticipation on his sister's face. The little girl had turned into a formidable woman, Turukáno had to admit. She was head-strong and independent, not to mention very much in love. As her older brother, he was torn between the need to watch over her, to make sure she was safe, and knowing that she would scowl at him for what she would no doubt call smothering.

The hunting trip was Turukáno's first real adventure outside Tirion's magnificent and protected walls. The he had taken in every detail of their journey with great interest, absorbed by so many things new to him and thus, too busy to worry about his sister. The fact that she had left with Tyelkormo to search for a place where they would have enough privacy, was an exception, however. The thought sent a shiver through Turukáno's body and he frowned, wondering whether he should be happy for the lovers, concerned for his sister's welfare or worried by the fact that his bold cousin would find it impossible to restrain himself, once the two were out of earshot. 

Following that train of thought, Turukáno stifled a chuckle, scolding himself for dwelling so much on his sister's personal affairs. Irissë beamed with joy, savoring the freedom that their adventure had given all of them, and the closeness that she and Tyelkormo shared. _'It is so obvious that he adores her.'_ Turukáno told himself. _'It's silly of me to worry. After all, who could possibly take better care of my sister in the wild than a great hunter like my cousin?'_

"Unless they tear a muscle or drown from exhaustion...," Carnistir's chimed in ironically, startling Turukáno and making him stand to face his cousin.

"What…?" he gaped at Carnistir's knowing smirk. "Come on, that's not funny!" Turukáno shook his head, not quite accustomed to his cousin's peculiar sense of humor yet.

"Alright, it's not funny. But it's the worse thing that can happen...," Carnistir replied calmly, amused by the alarm he could read on his cousin's face. 

"I'm worried about them being alone in the woods, unarmed and exposed to the danger of an attack," Turukáno said, fazed by his companion's casual expression.

"We are just as unarmed and exposed, cousin." 

"Yes, but...," Turukáno trailed off, stopping himself just in time. He was about to say that they were not engaged in frantic lovemaking, as he assumed his sister and Tyelkormo were even as he spoke. Thankful for the waning light, Turukáno splashed some water on his face, hoping to conceal his blushing cheeks.

"Don't worry. There are wolves in these woods, yes, and bears, further south, in the hills. But I have never seen or heard of an animal attacking my brother."

The confidence in Carnistir's voice and the proud look that lit his features soothed Turukáno's worries to some degree. "I know that Tyelkormo has an unusual gift. In fact I was hoping I could see it myself," he said.

"Well then, you should ask Turko to sweet-talk some deer into eating out of the palm of his hand. Or a wild feline to curl and sleep at his feet. But that would spoil the fun of the chase," Carnistir replied, in the same casual manner that made Turukáno wonder whether his cousin was subtly mocking him or not. 

Of course, the second possibility had crossed his mind hundreds of times, since he and Carnistir had been appointed to work together, during the preparations for Nolofinwë's begetting day feast. The fist thing he had thought, back then, was _'Woe is me!'_ , but after spending some time with Carnistir, Turukáno had realized that they were not so different after all. Both young Elves were of a more reclusive nature, less boisterous than their siblings and usually inclined to think more and speak less. Both of them had been efficient at carrying out their task, showing excellent coordinating skills. Where Carnistir had been less patient and prone to anger, when things did not work exactly according to plan, Turukáno had found ways to cool the rising of his cousin's temper. And a type of mutual understanding had been forged between them, aided by often having Macalaurë in their company to fill the silence with his chatter and his beautiful songs. 

Of course, both younger Elves rolled their eyes and laughed behind Macalaurë's back, when the musician spoke of or sang his love for the Telerin maiden that had him so terribly smitten (and he did this quite often). Turukáno had found Carnistir less moody and dark than he had been warned, his sharp sense of humor less hard to understand, and they shared jokes of their own as the awkwardness of their first meetings was replaced by a sense of familiarity. And yet, Turukáno could not claim that he had come to know Carnistir enough to discern his thoughts or to be sure that Fëanáro's proud and mysterious son was always genuine in his words and intentions.

"Still, it would be interesting to see. I have not heard of another Elf with the ability to talk to animals and make himself understood. Only the Ainur can do it, is that not so?" Turukáno pursued the matter.

"For all I know, he is the only one of us with this amazing ability, but I'm counting out the Elves that did not make the journey to Aman. They are not under the protection of the Powers and I think that they would need a better understanding of the animals that roam those lands," Carnistir replied.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. I suppose you are right. We should ask grandfather about this. He might know more," Turukáno agreed. "I remember laughing so hard one day, a long time ago, when I was but a child... Findekáno told me that he found your brother in your mother's flower garden, surrounded by birds and chirping along with them. Even Findekáno found it very amusing," Turukáno smiled.

"I suppose you thought Turko is pretty crazy, didn't you?" 

"Well... to tell you the truth, I did. I also thought that Macalaurë is crazy, so distracted and absorbed by his music all the time."

"He _is_ always distracted. And crazy," Carnistir grinned.

"No, he's not. All right, maybe just a little bit. But I realize now, after getting a chance to know you better, that my brother was right when he told me we should admire everyone in your family, because each of you is gifted in a unique way," the younger Elf said, standing and looking down at the small ripples that distorted his reflection.

"Thank you, cousin. Truth be told, I never expected you to think, much less say this. My family and I… we are not the easiest people to understand. We've grown up in different places, you and I, separated by the unfortunate animosity between our fathers. I would not be surprised or offended if you found more than one thing bizarre about me and my brothers," Carnistir said with a serious and honest look as he met Turukáno's eyes. 

That very moment, if anyone would have told him that his cousin was anything else but kind and admirable, Turukáno would have beaten that foolish someone with a stick. 

"But that is not true, Moryo," Turukáno smiled, enjoying the way his cousin's nick-name rolled off his tongue. "I do not find any of you bizarre. All of you are interesting and intriguing, yes... and I am convinced that being in your company is never boring. I, on the other hand, must strike you as rather tiresome and plain," the young Elf trailed off, embarrassed by his own insecurity and how he seemed to be begging for a compliment. 

"Oh, shut up! You are too dignified and too smart to say something like that. You are excellent company and there is absolutely nothing plain about you. I will hear not another word on this," Carnistir said, belatedly realizing that he sounded more commanding than reassuring, as he had meant to be. He watched Turukáno lower his eyes and mutter something that might have meant he agreed, but Carnistir felt a pang of guilt at seeing his cousin's discomfort. "Um... Turukáno, I'm sorry. I did not mean to sound like that. It seems I have forgotten that I am only a few years your elder and you are not one of my baby brothers."

Again, Turukáno offered something unintelligible in reply and kept his eyes downcast. Carnistir groaned inwardly and wanted to slap himself when it occurred to him how sweet and endearing his cousin appeared. He was also shocked by the sudden urge to take Turukáno in his arms. _'He is not a child, you stupid Elf, so stop treating him like one,'_ Carnistir berated himself. 

"Ah, listen to us embarrassing each other...," Turukáno sighed after an uncomfortable moment of silence. "I don't know what came over me. You are right to scold me, I _am_ behaving quite childishly."

"Don't worry," Carnistir shrugged the embarrassment off. "Just rest assured that I enjoy your company very much and I am very pleased that you have joined us on this trip. I suppose we could have coaxed Maitimo and Findekáno to come with us, had you not volunteered, but I am happy that you did, because this gives us a chance to spend more time together and learn more about each other." 

His cousin's words reached a slightly dazed Turukáno and traveled down his spine, causing him to shiver slightly. He lowered himself in the water, trying to conceal his reaction and nodded, looking at Carnistir.

"I'm glad to hear this. I was worried that I might be a burden to you hunters, with my limited experience out-of-doors. I still don't think I can bring myself to kill any creature, but I can help with the cooking...," he trailed off and smiled, diving under the surface and swimming away slowly. He felt like kicking himself for his strange behavior. And for all the thoughts that had begun assaulting him ever since their companions had left him and Carnistir alone.

Watching Turukáno disappear and surface at the opposite end of the pool, Carnistir sighed and lowered his head back onto the polished rock beneath him. He had many questions, some that only his elusive cousin could answer, but Turukáno had deliberately distanced himself. Puzzled, Carnistir wondered what had caused his serious, intelligent and confident cousin to behave so out of character and openly display such insecurity. 

_'Is it something you've said or done? Think, you idiot, is it your fault?'_ he asked himself. Part of him felt tempted to reach for the other's thoughts and solve the mystery before Turukáno could even notice, but Carnistir immediately scowled at himself for the idea. He had promised not to use his own, frightening gift at the expense of others, just to make his own life easier and to amuse himself. 

_'You will have to figure this out like everybody else. If Turukáno senses that you are trying to get inside his head he will shut you out and then you will have to look forward to the most uncomfortable and boring month of your life. So, think!'_ he urged himself and leaned back, letting his mind wander to the events of the last days... weeks even, searching for other moments when he might have said or done something that his cousin would have taken the wrong way. He knew that Nolofinwë's son, much like his father, had a tendency of never forgetting even the most insignificat detail.

Lost in thought, it was not long before Carnistir shut himself to the outside world completely. But his body was rocked gently in the warm water and the smooth motion soon clouded his mind in a sleepy haze. His thoughts became random images and words strung together incoherently. He drifted into reverie, unaware that his relaxing arms were likely to slip from the rock's surface.

Suddenly, Carnistir felt a jolt of pleasure coursing through his body and he tensed. Someone's hands were upon him, coaxing breathless moans of pleasure out of him. A hot mouth moved on his cock and made him writhe. Behind closed eyelids, he saw a dark head bobbing between his legs. Carnistir's eyes traveled over his own naked from, sprawled on his back and spread wantonly. His fingers dug into the sand beneath him and he raked it frantically, moaning and arching his back. The same incredible mouth was driving him to the edge fast and he cried out when two fingers stretched him open, searching inside his aroused body and making him scream. He saw the expression of bliss on his own face, the fine sheen of sweat that covered his skin. He watched himself tossing his head wildly, his tangled mane spilled on the sand like a dark halo. The panting Carnistir he saw bucked his hips and cried out every time those skillful fingers brushed the sensitive knot of nerves within him, hips jerking and pushing his length into the mouth that received him eagerly. He felt himself being pleasured with undeniable skill and the frantic pace made him explode with a keening cry. He kept thrusting even after his release washed over him with such pleasure that every nerve in his body sang. And his inarticulate moans turned into a word, a name...

"Turukáno!" he called out, waking up with a start, his heart pounding so fast that the sound of blood rushing madly through his veins filled his ears. He slipped off the rock he had been resting against and fell into the water with a splash. Confused, Carnistir opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, but warm water filled his nose and mouth. His eyes widened in shock and stung, taking in his murky surroundings with rising panic. His arms flailed and he kicked his feet, searching for the bottom of the pool as he remembered where he was. Carnistir pushed himself to the surface, coughing and trying to ease the burning in his lungs. He tossed his head to the side, desperate to remove the wet curtain of hair that covered his face and kept him from breathing.  
Help came in the form of a strong arm that supported him, while Turukáno's other hand smoothed away the wet hair stuck to Carnistir's panicked face.

"Breathe... It's all right, I've got you...," Turukáno murmured, holding on to his cousin as Carnistir heaved and coughed violently.

"I'm... I'm all right...," he managed to say, breathing heavily and leaning on Turukáno, grateful for the support. 

"Is it better now? Can you breathe?" Turukáno petted his cousin soothingly, trying to calm both Carnistir and himself.

"Yes. Yes, I think so," Carnistir's coughs subsided and he ran a shaky hand over his face.

"What happened? You gave me quite a scare. I thought you were drowning."

"I... I guess I was. I don't know what happened... I must have dozed off. One moment I was sleeping and the other I found myself underwater, shocked that I could not breathe," Carnistir answered, struggling to overcome the fright and make some sense of what had brought him in such peril.

"Gods! You were asleep? I had not realized. Come on, let's get you out of the water and dried," Turukáno exclaimed. 

Carnistir's first response was to let himself be guided to the shore, but he noticed, with no small amount of astonishment, that a proud erection stood between his legs. And he remembered his dream.

"N-no... It's all right. Let's not get out just yet. I'm fine. Besides, the water is warmer than the air and I don't feel like being cold right now...," Carnistir said, turning his face away and trying to conceal the angry blush that colored his cheeks.

"Are you sure?" Turukáno asked, even more worried by his cousin's behavior, as Carnistir tried to shake himself free of his hold. 

"Yes. I'll just lean against this treacherous rock and try to recover my breath," Carnistir said, walking through the water on shaky legs and resting his elbows on the wet rock, his back turned to Turukáno.

"As you wish, cousin," Turukáno settled himself at Carnistir's side, looking at him with obvious concern in his eyes. "I'm sorry I did not watch you. I had no idea you had fallen asleep."

"Ah... I had no idea that I was asleep either. I just wanted to sit back and think for a moment. I must have scared you. I'm sorry," Carnistir said with a small, apologetic smile, his cheeks still burning and his arousal still throbbing undisturbed.

"You did startle me. I was swimming on the other side when I heard you calling for me. But you had disappeared under the surface when I turned to look at you. I saw your hands poking out of the water and I realized that you were in trouble so I swam to you as fast as I could. For a second, I thought that you were just trying to scare me, but when you surfaced and I saw the panic on your face, I understood that something wrong had happened," Turukáno explained. "Are you all right?"

"I guess so... You're going to scowl at me, but I _wish_ this were a prank. Had the water been deeper, Eru knows, I might have drowned. I was so disoriented and I panicked."

"Oh, I'd rather it were a prank and you had not been so frightened," Turukáno smiled and gave Carnistir's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Thank you. For being here and for not laughing at me. This is so embarrassing," Carnistir murmured, looking at his cousin from the corner of his eye.

"I wouldn't do that. In fact, I'm still worried about what happened. Did you have one of your nightmares just now? When you called out for me, it sounded like a desperate cry."

Feeling his cheeks burning even worse and unable to hide it any longer, Carnistir covered his face with both palms and sighed. "No, it was not a nightmare..."

"Good, I'm happy to hear that. But you don't have to feel so ashamed by this. It's only me here and you can talk about it, if you think it might help," Turukáno replied, giving his cousin's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Carnistir remained still and silent for a few moments, his mind racing. The proximity of his cousin did nothing but bring back the vivid images and sensations he had experienced in his dream. His unruly body screamed for the other's touch, or some form of gratification that would ease the painful arousal, while Carnistir's mind struggled with questions: _'Should I tell him? How would he react? Will he walk away and never look me in the eye again? Do I betray our newly found friendship by having these lustful urges? Should I suppress them and pretend that nothing is amiss? Do I even want my cousin? What is the matter with me?!'_

His fingers slid through his damp hair and clutched it forcefully, making his scalp hurt and tears sting the corners of his eyes. Carnistir pressed his forehead against the smooth rock and waited for the moment of anxiety and confusion to pass. Through the haze of his thoughts, Carnistir could barely hear his cousin speaking to him.

"Moryo... what's wrong? Talk to me... You do not seem well at all. Please, you are frightening me again. Tell me what the matter is so I can help you. Moryo…?" he said, leaning closer and trying to pull his troubled cousin in his arms. 

Suddenly, Carnistir whirled around and faced is cousin, bracing his hands against Turukáno's chest. 

Startled by the sudden movement, Turukáno blinked and gasped as their bodies came in such close contact.

"I will tell you, if you really want to hear it. But forgive me if it is something that will make you uncomfortable," Carnistir drew in a deep breath and saw the wary look in the other's eyes. "No, wait. It's nothing that you need to be afraid of. I have not had a frightening vision, or anything of the kind. But even so... Ah! I dreamed that you and I were making love," he said quickly, searching his cousin's face for his reaction.

Sure enough, Turukáno's eyes widened, his mouth hung open and his whole body tensed. Carnistir willed himself to remain still and let his cousin move away from him, before trying to explain and fix the situation somehow. But Turukáno did not tear himself away in great haste. In fact, his arms tightened around his cousin, while he recovered from the shock of hearing such a statement.

"What…?" Turukáno exhaled after a few moments of stunned silence.

"I had an intense dream about you making love to me," Carnistir replied, growing a little bolder. "I was lying back on the sand and you were pleasuring me with your hands and your mouth. I kept calling your name and... Oh, I'm sorry, but you wanted to know!" he finished abruptly, taken aback by the look of absolute shock on Turukáno's face. The younger Elf's hands slipped off his cousin and fell at his sides. Turukáno was perfectly still, not even blinking or breathing and his eyes were fixed on his cousin's flushed face in an incredulous stare.

Carnistir's palms also slid from his cousin's chest, but slowly, moving on their own as Carnistir waited for his companion to say something. 

When he felt the warm palms slide over his pebbled nipples and brush his wet skin, before falling at Carnistir's sides, Turukáno issued a soft moan and his eyelids fluttered shut for a moment.

It was Carnistir's turn to gasp and stare. 

"Turukáno... I'm sorry. Please say something," he said, but warm, wet fingers covered his lips and he shuddered. 

"Sshh, no. Don't be sorry. I'm just… surprised. Because you see… ah, how do I even say this? Moryo, while you were sleeping, I was lost in a fantasy. It was just like you said... I imagined that I had you naked beneath me, that you were mine to worship. I thought about how I would touch you and pleasure you until you came with my name on your lips," Turukáno said, his voice unsteady but undeniably husky. He brushed Carnistir's lower lip with his thumb as he spoke and eyed him with a mixture of anxiousness and relief to have finally plucked up the courage to speak.

Carnistir shivered under the touch, completely taken aback by the passionate confession. He realized that he had reached Turukáno's mind in spite of his firm decision not to do so. He had effectively lived the other's fantasy...

"Oh, Valar! I'm sorry," Carnistir murmured. "I'm so sorry. I was asleep and I did not mean to do it!" he said and felt Turukáno recoiling under his words. "I was in your mind, Turukáno," he rushed to say, but immediately realized that it only served to make Turukáno more uncomfortable, if not outright right angry.

"You were what ?!" Turukáno frowned, both confused and more than a little disturbed.

"I... I can do that, sometimes. It is my gift, like you said earlier. I can get into people's heads and see some of their thoughts. I used to do this a lot as a child, trying to gauge people's moods and perceive their thoughts. But I am trying to avoid that now because it frightens people and turns them away from me. And sometimes it hurts to see what they really think," Carnistir explained. 

"Oh... You mean… you have the same ability as uncle Arafinwë?" Turukáno mumbled, still very much taken aback.

"I do. In fact, he caught me doing it several times... and told me that it is wrong to invade people's thoughts like that. He said I would be caught and punished and that people would be forced to block me out. Everyone in my family does that now, they've learned to shield their minds from me, although I've learned to control myself and not use this power. Listen, I swear I did not do it to you on purpose. I was just trying to figure out whether I've done something to make you feel unsure or hurt. I fell asleep and... I had no idea that I was reaching out to you," Carnistir struggled to explain himself, giving his cousin an apprehensive look. But a moment later, it dawned upon him and his eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait... did you just say that you were thinking about making love to me…?"

Turukáno blushed profusely and his heart raced. 

"Yes." he whispered, convinced that the confession would cost him Carnistir's confidence and that their friendship could not continue because of his treacherous urges. And yet, a part of him felt relieved that he no longer had to hide his desire and pretend that he was comfortable spending so much time in the closeness of an Elf who set his body aflame and filled his mind with fevered fantasies. He averted his gaze, but Carnistir reached out and cupped his cheek, urging Turukáno to meet his eyes.

"You want to be with me… like that?" Carnistir inquired, wanting to kick himself for the way his voice wavered.

"Yes," Turukáno whispered again and watched how dazed his cousin seemed to be as he tried to wrap his mind around the confession. 

Behind his stunned expression, Carnistir began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Many recollections flooded his mind, little things, words and gestures that appeared innocent and beyond suspicion, but took on a different light after Turukáno's confession. The way he was so apprehensive sometimes, they way he shied from any kind of physical contact, his uncharacteristic insecurity and... the very fact that he had wished to join the hunting party... it all made sense to Carnistir. He felt warmth spreading through his body and tenderness smoothed his features into a soft smile as he looked at his cousin in that new light. Still, he was unsure what to say or do.

"How long ago…?" he asked, and the confusion on the other's face told him that Turukáno could not read his thoughts. "When did you start thinking about me this way?"

Turukáno took a deep breath, having expected a more violent reaction and certain rejection, but he did not see any sign of anger and disgust on his cousin's beautiful face. It encouraged him a little and gave him the strength to make a full confession, realizing that he had nothing left to lose.

"I have always been drawn to you, Carnistir. But I have also been awed and frightened by you, knowing that you are difficult and unapproachable. But that didn't stop me from observing you when I had the chance to do so. I couldn't put a name to what I felt until we began spending more time together. Weeks ago, when your father threw us all into the hasty preparations for that feast. But the more you revealed yourself to me… the more you came out of your protective shell, I realized what an amazing person you are. I began to cherish out time together, to enjoy how well we worked together and how much I could learn from you. I loved to hear you speak about your family and the closeness between all of you. And, as I saw the affection written on your face, every time you spoke to me of your home, of your life surrounded by so many loving and amazing people, I wanted that for myself as well. I longed to be in your place and, before I knew it, I longed to be _with you_. Like Findekáno is with Maitimo and like your family has welcomed him as one of your own," Turukáno paused to inhale deeply and brace himself to continue. "You are so fair, cousin. So beautiful and you have this unique charm that you may not even be aware of. You fascinate me. You make me crave for your presence and... for so much more. Forgive me if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I have tried my best to conceal my feelings, lest I disturb you and drive you away. But you found me out today and the best I can hope for is that you will not loathe me. Forgive me for betraying your trust," the young Elf finished, unable to look his cousin in the eye any longer.

Turukáno sighed and made to turn away, waiting for and dreading the outburst that would certainly come. He was startled to hear Carnistir say, in a small voice:

"But I thought that you were courting a maiden, in Tirion!"

"I am not! It's just a rumor!" he cried. "I may have kissed a maiden, once or twice, but that does not mean anything. Nothing happens in Tirion without the gossip mill turning it into much more than it is. I say nothing about such rumors because I do not wish to cause anyone further humiliation. It's not my place to openly reject anyone, but I am certainly courting no maiden!"

 _'Only you, but you are no maiden and this is the most pathetic attempt at courting in history!'_ Turukáno added to himself. He had backed away a few steps as he spoke, but gave a start when Carnistir stopped him.

"What are you doing? Why are you walking away?"

"Do you not want me to leave now?" Turukáno inquired breathlessly

"Why would I...? No," Carnistir shook his head. "Come back here," he added, his voice softening. "Do you believe that what you have just told me has made me resent you?"

Turukáno nodded miserably, placing one foot in front of the other slowly, terribly unsure as to where the strange situation would lead them. "Yes. That is what I fear," he admitted.

"No, no... Please don't! A moment ago, I dreaded your reaction when speaking about what I had seen in your mind. I thought that you would be revolted and betrayed, or that I had imagined something that was not there. Turukáno, I do not think any less of you after learning that... Oh, Eru! I am speechless. I don't know what to say, or do... I don't know what to make of your confession and I have no idea what is going to happen between us, but please do not think that I will turn away from you in anger. In fact...," Carnistir trailed off with an uncertain smile, reaching out for his cousin and wanting to pull him closer.

"Are you sure?" Turukáno murmured. He caught Carnistir's hand between his own and lifted it to his lips, kissing the trembling fingers. "Does this not make you feel uneasy?" he breathed.

"I don't know...," Carnistir answered. "No, being close to you does not make me feel uneasy. It's just that... Turukáno, you confessed your _feelings_ for me. You said that you want us to be as our eldest brothers are. That means that you need more than physical gratification from me. And I... I'm just very surprised by all this. I should have known it sooner. I should have paid more attention to you... Turukáno, I don't know even know if I deserve your feelings..." 

"You do! Believe me, you do. And even if you didn't, I would still want to love you. But I understand that you are taken aback by all this. It gives me hope me to hear that you are not angry with me and I will let you be, if you wish to think about this on your own. I will be there whenever you need me, regardless of what your heart tells you to do," Turukáno said, trying to maintain his fragile composure just a little longer, until he could hide somewhere and wring his hands in despair. Hope mixed in the turmoil of conflicting emotions that whirled in the young Elf's mind and he felt more helpless than he had ever been before.

"No, don't go...," Carnistir pleaded. "Wait... I am taken aback, yes, but I do not believe that thinking about this on my own will help. I need you to answer so many questions."

"I will give you the answers you need, if I can," Turukáno rushed to assure him, though he felt anything but sure himself. 

"This much I can tell you, though. I am glad that we have spoken about it and that I have made such a wonderful discovery. It warms my heart to know that I have earned your affection, even with so little effort on my part. As for the desire...," Carnistir stopped, looking straight into his cousin's eyes and blushing once more. "What I have seen in my dream... in _your_ fantasy, has affected me more than I let you to see."

Gathering up the courage to do what he had felt the need for since he had woken up in a drowning fright, Carnistir slowly guided Turukáno's right hand over his stomach, lowering his palm to cover the erection that no amount of shock and emotional conversation had been able to diminish. He gasped under the fluttery touch and fought to hold still, but he could not help pressing Turukáno's hand closer. 

The younger Elf's breath hitched audibly. His nostrils flared, his eyes widened and darkened under a great surge of lust. He drew in a shallow breath and leaned toward his cousin, whispering his name.

"Yes, Turukáno, _this_ means that even though my heart is unsure and my mind filled with questions, I _do_ want you. What we dreamed just now… Show me, if you want to... and we'll see where it takes us," Carnistir murmured, beginning to lose his composure as he felt Turukáno's fingers curl around his hard length and massage him tentatively.

The younger Elf shuddered and stepped closer, wrapping his free arm around Carnistir's neck. Turukáno pressed his forehead against Carnistir's but did not quite dare kiss him.

"If I want to…? Gods, Moryo, I have wanted you for so long that I can hardly believe this is happening!"

Carnistir gasped and wrapped his arms around his cousin's lithe form. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Turukáno's. Their first kiss was awkward, but thrilling and they fumbled with each other, teeth bumping when they tried to taste each other more deeply.

Turukáno released Carnistir's length and cupped his cousin's cheeks, tilting his head and taking over the burning kiss. He moaned low in his throat when Carnistir's hands slid down the length of his body and brought their hips together. Turukáno's moaned in light-headed bliss when they rubbed against each other and he felt how strongly Carnistir reacted to his closeness.

All questions and doubts were soon cast aside and the two young Elves touched each other eagerly, letting desire drive them on. Their embrace became more heated as their hands roamed everywhere, stroking and clutching and bringing them in the most delightful contact. 

Carnistir tossed his head back, his long, dark mane floating behind him as he bared his throat for Turukáno to kiss and lick fiery patterns on his skin. Soft little moans spilled from lips and he grasped Turukáno's hips, pressing him even closer and grinding against his erection. 

The younger Elf issued a deep growl, but his lips never left Carnistir' heated skin, as he descended to tease a pebbled nipple. His head swam and he knew that he would soon lose control, so wonderfully trapped between their bodies and sliding against that silky heat.

"I need to...," Carnistir gasped, but his words were lost in a loud moan, when Turukáno broke free of his embrace and slipped a hand between their bodies to press their lengths together. Carnistir's hips jerked violently and he slid out of Turukáno's hold, but his cousin insisted and curled his long fingers around both their cocks. "I don't know if I can… I won't last long, Turukáno!" he mewled, trapped against one rapidly moving hand and the searing heat of the length that rubbed against his. He plunged his fingers into Turukáno's damp hair and took in breathtaking beauty of Turukáno's face, his blue eyes darkened by lust, his cheeks flushed and his delicious lips parted, as the younger Elf breathed heavily.

"You are so beautiful...," Carnistir murmured and he was rewarded with a maddening caress under the water, causing him to roll his eyes and groan.

"And you...you are... Gods, Moryo... you are killing me!" Turukáno panted. He forced himself to slow the pace of his strokes, in spite of Carnistir's disappointed whimper. Turukáno battled the urgent need to find release and wondered if Carnistir would accept walking out of the water to be ravished, like Turukáno craved to have him. Somehow, found enough restraint in himself to stop writhing against Carnistir's body for a moment.

"Moryo... my love, have you done this before?" he asked his cousin.

Hearing the endearment, Carnistir averted his eyes and wondered what in Arda possessed Turukáno to ask him such a thing. And why had his hand stopped moving?!

"Hmm?" he blinked.

"I... I wanted to know if you've ever... had a male lover before. I don't want to do anything that might cause you discomfort," Turukáno said, smiling earnestly and lovingly.

Carnistir felt touched by Turukáno's concern and tenderness, but the fleeting feeling was quickly replaced by a vision of bright blue eyes and a wild golden mane. He closed his eyes and nearly snorted. _'Get out of my head, Turko! You've got your own, now let me have mine!'_ he shouted at the image before his closed eyelids. Shaking his head, he returned Turukáno's fond look.

"I... I have. Yes. Don't worry. You could never hurt me," he answered and smiled reassuringly.

Turukáno felt an unexpected pang of jealousy that sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine, but the urged himself not to think about the lucky bastard who got to pleasure the wonderful Elf in his arms. Carnistir's trusting expression banished such thoughts instantly and Turukáno kissed him tenderly, before searching his cousin's eyes once more.

"I would never hurt you. I want to please you, cousin," he murmured huskily, feeling Carnistir tremble in his arms. He reached under the water and caressed his cousin's thigh, his hand sliding slowly between Carnistir's legs. 

That touch and the heated look in Turukáno's eyes spoke volumes about what his cousin desired, and Carnistir shuddered again, overwhelmed by the intensity of the other's passion. For a brief moment he wondered whether he would open up to his cousin's touch, whether he would let Turukáno take him. He recalled the sensation of being touched and pleasured so intimately as he had experienced it in the vivid dream, and a soft moan escaped his lips. 

"Yes! Mmm, you please me so much already, Turukáno. You will have me," he whispered wantonly. "But now... now I need to...," he broke off, bucking his hips for more friction. "Just finish it... please!"

Carnistir's response pushed Turukáno beyond restraint and he gave in, urged by his own desire. He crushed his mouth over Carnistir's soft, inviting lips and kissed him fiercely, picking up the pace and stroking their lengths to a quick release. He moaned deeply when Carnistir's fingers found the tips of his ears and rubbed them, sending furious thrills through him.

The water rippled around them, and small puffs of steam rose from the surface of the pond and their heated skin, as night descended upon them and the air cooled slightly. Oblivious to anything but the maddening pleasure that mounted and mounted inside them, they moved wildly and cried out on each other's lips. Turukáno's hips jerked one last time and he arched his back, gritting his teeth and hissing when release came upon him in a blinding surge of pleasure. He leaned heavily against Carnistir, breathing hotly against his damp skin. Turukáno kept pumping the hard flesh in his hand and felt Carnistir burning against his over-sensitized skin.

A few moments later, Carnistir cried out Turukáno's name and his seed shot out in a furious burst, making him moan, long and deep. He nearly collapsed, gasping for air, his legs shaking and his head swam in a blissful haze. Despite the exhaustion, he clutched Turukáno to his chest, breathing deeply against his damp hair and drawing in his cousin's scent.

 _'I could get used to this…'_ Carnistir thought and he kissed the dark tresses, feeling wonderful sated. The notion that he could share much more than lustful embraces and brief satisfaction with the Elf that held him and caressed his back, murmuring soft endearments, made Carnistir smile. Yes, he could certainly get used to it...

They held each other tight for a blissful while and tried to catch their breath. Carnistir moved first in the embrace, pressing soft kisses on Turukáno's hair and over his cousin's cheek. He cupped Turukáno's face in both palms and looked into his shining eyes.

"This was... It was wonderful, Turukáno. Thank you so much...," he said between soft, delicate kisses. 

Turukáno moaned in response, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his skin. _'You are not going to cry! You are not going to cry!'_ he struggled with himself, eyes gleaming with unshod tears. _'This is to wonderful to be ruined even by happy tears. Hold yourself together!'_ he continued berating himself silently, murmuring a soft "Thank you," on Carnistir's lips.

Sensing that his cousin was on the brink of an emotional reaction and knowing that he was not yet able to respond as Turukáno would wish him to, Carnistir smiled and traced a hot, wet line along Turukáno's jaw, kissing him with renewed hunger. When he reached Turukáno's earlobe, Carnistir teased the delicate shell and then, feeling Turukáno shudder, he murmured seductively: 

"Would you take me out of the water and make real that fantasy of yours?" he grazed the sensitive tip of Turukáno's ear, smiling when he heard his cousin yelp.

"I would... I will!" Turukáno moaned the promise, wishing that he could lift his cousin in his arms and carry him to the sandy shore. But he was the smaller of the two, lighter and less strong than Carnistir. If anyone was to be carried, it would be him. He smiled at the thought and disentangled himself from the embrace. He had just only just recovered his breath but Carnistir's mouth poured fire in his veins once more. "Come on, come on and I'll show you!" Turukáno gave his cousin an inviting smile. He took Carnistir's hand and began to wade toward the shore.

Carnistir nodded and followed him, excitement making his heart race and butterflies roam through his stomach. He would enjoy himself, Turukáno seemed to be an experienced lover, although how he came by that experience promised to be the most interesting information Carnistir needed to dig for. But, most importantly, Turukáno was infatuated with him and so eager to please him… Oh yes, Carnistir would definitely enjoy himself.

***

When Tyelkormo silently stepped inside the tent that he shared with his brother, he was surprised to find Carnistir sprawled on the bedrolls, in the middle of the tent, hands folded beneath his raven head and grinning widely. The younger Elf's eyes were literally shining and Tyelkormo found himself staring, mirroring the delighted expression.

"Hello, little brother," he whispered.

"Hello, Turko. Had a good time, I trust," Carnistir looked his older brother up and down, his smile never wavering.

"A very good time, yes."

"I was beginning to believe you would not come back until the morning."

"Don't tell me you were worried," the blond cocked his head and his eyes narrowed a fraction.

"No. I wasn't. Not for you, anyway. I did wonder about the well being of our lovely cousin, though. Can she still walk?" Carnistir inquired teasingly, amused by the way Tyelkormo gaped and snorted in mock indignation.

"Well... She came back on her own feet, thank you very much for asking," Tyelkormo huffed. "What about you? Why are you grinning like your face is about to break, hmm?"

Carnistir gave him an enigmatic smile and said nothing.

"Wait... You did not kill our cousin, did you?" 

Carnistir chuckled quietly and shook his head in silent denial.

"Did you maim him beyond repair...?" Tyelkormo offered, only to be gainsaid again as Carnistir shook his head once more. "You emotionally scarred him for life, perhaps?" the blond smirked.

"I certainly hope not!" Carnistir retorted.

"Alright. What did you two busy yourselves with while we were gone?"

Carnistir winked and kept his smiling mouth firmly shut.

"What?! Moryo... you know I hate it when you act all mysterious and secretive. Tell me!" Tyelkormo insisted.

His brother shrugged and told him that he would never guess.

"Come on! This is ridiculous. I am your older brother and I have a right to know!" Tyelkormo huffed, walking closer to Carnistir's sprawled form and looming above him. He noticed that Carnistir did not seem at all fazed, so he bit his lip and eyed him pleadingly. "Give me a clue, at least."

"No." 

"No?! What in the name of Eru did you do? I hope it's nothing stupid that I'll have to get you out of."

"No," Carnistir simply stated again, his smile growing and showing his white teeth.

Genuinely annoyed, Tyelkormo dropped to his knees and glared at his younger brother. "Well, good. But that does not help me in any way. Tell me the great mystery, brother. I don't have time for this now."

"You might not have time, but my secret is well worth it," Carnistir teased in a sing-song voice.

"Gods, I hate you!" Tyelkormo grunted and before his startled brother could react, he threw himself above Carnistir, grabbed his arms and wrested them above his brother's head, pinning his wrists down. 

Carnistir squirmed and tried to break free, but his brother's larger, heavier body had him effectively trapped. Tyelkormo straddled his brother's hips and lowered his head, capturing Carnistir's mouth in a savage kiss, before Carnistir could toss his head to the side and avoid it.

The younger Elf grunted, struggled to break free, but he gave in shortly after and opened up to the invading tongue that teased his lips. Tyelkormo deepened the kiss and kept it going until they ran out of breath. Then, he released Carnistir's crimson lips and licked them one last time, lifting his head and grinning at his brother's flustered expression.

"Whoa... what was that for?" Carnistir panted.

"Tell me what you did with Turukáno!" Tyelkormo growled and, when Carnistir wanted to say no, he dragged his hips over his brother's groin, making him grunt and shoot him a dirty glare.

"Get off me, Turko!" the younger Elf said, trying to free his hands from Tyelkormo's firm grip, but to no avail. 

"Not until you tell me everything I want to know," his brother answered, thrusting again and feeling Carnistir respond.

"No!" Carnistir huffed, inwardly laughing at the ridiculous situation. He could not avoid becoming aroused again, despite knowing that it gave his brother the upper hand. 

"Spill!" Tyelkormo growled again and he was rewarded with a throaty chuckle.

"Oooo, but I _did_!" his brother drawled in answer.

"What?!" Tyelkormo gaped, giving his brother a suspicious look. "What do you mean, you spilled? What did you spill?"

Carnistir bit his lip, smirked and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He could not help laughing and enjoying the jolts of pleasure that shot through him beneath Tyelkormo's weight.

The blond gaped and blinked repeatedly, because surely, he hadn't heard right…

"You have got to be kidding me, Moryo!"

Carnistir smirked and shook his head slowly. Fully enjoying his brother's stunned expression, he bucked his hips and made Tyelkormo yelp.

"You... you naughty little...," Tyelkormo muttered. "Moryo... do you expect me to believe that you had sex with Turukáno?"

"We made love, brother dearest," Carnistir replied sweetly. "Now, get off me before I kick you so hard you won't walk for a week, much less keep that beautiful cousin of ours satisfied."

"Oh, all right. You don't have to be so mean," Tyelkormo grumbled, releasing his brother and rolling to his side. He expected Carnistir to push him away when he tried to kiss him again, but the younger Elf grabbed a handful of his brother's unbound hair and received the soft kiss with equal interest.

"I'm glad to hear this, beloved. It was about time." Tyelkormo whispered, caressing Carnistir's cheek and smiling lovingly.

"Huh?! What did you say?" his brother frowned. "It was about time?!"

"Well... yes. Eru knows, Turukáno has been lusting after you for way too long and he has kept mustering the courage to approach you. It was becoming rather pathetic to watch him pine after you so…," Tyelkormo said, cut short by a powerful shove that knocked the breath out of him and sent him away from Carnistir with a surprised "Oomph!"

"Are you saying that you knew about this and told me nothing, Turkafinwë?!" Carnistir shot up and glared at his brother.

"Yes... yes, I knew. But, before you become all hot and bothered, hear me out. Irissë told me, after her brother asked to join us on the trip. I was just as surprised as you were, when Turukáno said that he wants to travel and hunt with us, so I asked Irissë if she knows more about his motivation. Under pain of death and much, much worse, she made me swear that I would not tell you anything. Alright? Will you please stop looking at me like you are about to pull my hair out?" Tyelkormo said, raising his hands in a defensive posture.

"More like throttle you...," the younger Elf grumbled, but he bit back his anger and willed himself to relax. 

"Thank you for your wonderful intentions. But, really, I could not tell you. The best I could do was to nudge you in the right direction, if I saw that nothing happened. But apparently… much has happened," Tyelkormo finished, grinning broadly. "So, how was it?"

"Hmm?" Carnistir stared for a moment, then laughed softly and plastered a dreamy look on his face. "It was great! Wonderful. Perfect. He's so hot and so skilled, Turko. You can't even imagine how much pleasure he gave me And guess what… he _loves_ me, Turko! He spared no effort in showing it, that wonderful cousin of ours. Whaaat?!" he drawled, seeing Tyelkormo pouting prettily.

"You could have just said it was good," the blond grumbled and sat up.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Carnistir inquired sweetly.

"Umm... maybe. But anyone who loves you and makes you happy has my affection also. Will you give it a shot, then?" Tyelkormo asked, his expression becoming serious.

"Even if I did not feel a pull on my heart, I would still give it a try. Turukáno deserves it. We've had a good start," Carnistir mused, and a wistful look crossed his beautiful face. "We just have to see what happens next. He may win me over in time."

"Good," Tyelkormo murmured. "So, it looks like the last of the Nolofinwions has finally given in," he added, smiling triumphantly.

"The last bastion of their defense, yes. Father will be proud," Carnistir chuckled. "Speaking of which, how did it go with Irissë?"

"I asked her..." Tyelkormo beamed, unable to hold back his immense joy any longer.

"You did?" Carnistir covered his mouth in awe, anxiously waiting for the outcome of his brother's attempt. "And…?"

"She said 'yes' . Many times, in fact," Tyelkormo managed to answer, before his brother sprang up and grabbed him in a tight hug. He laughed breathlessly as Carnistir pressed quick kisses all over his face and then hugged him some more.

"Gods, Turko, I'm so happy for you! This is such great news! You must be ecstatic…," Carnistir said, his words muffled in the cascade of soft hair he'd buried his face into.

"I am both ecstatic and exhausted," Tyelkormo laughed softly, petting his brother's back and holding him with matching enthusiasm.

Carnistir stepped back and they grinned at each other. Then, Carnistir caressed his brothers' cheeks and he sighed, though no trace of melancholy could be read on his face.

"You know what this means…? No more fooling around for us, my beautiful brother."

"No more," Tyelkormo agreed, sighing wistfully. "Which is why I am so glad that Turukáno has professed his feelings and you have responded likewise."

"I've responded _physically_ , love."

"It's a good start, you said it yourself. Let him warm your bed. If there's a fraction of Findekáno's passion in his little brother, he'll make you happy. He'd better…," Tyelkormo growled.

"Mmm. We'll see. But what about you? You'll be getting married! First Kurvo, now you. Who's next? Káno?" 

"I wouldn't put it past Káno to get married before I do."

"Ah," Carnistir sighed deeply but not unhappily. "I am going to miss you..."

"And I am going to _kiss_ you," Tyelkormo snickered and made good his promise. 

"You won't be able to live without me," Carnistir teased into the kiss. "Oh, by the way. Someone's heart is going to break so badly when news of this gets out that we'll hear him screaming all the way from Alqualondë."

"Ah, Eru! Don’t remind me of that!" Tyelkormo pushed his brother back and held him at arm's length. "Arafinwë is going to kill me. What am I saying, Nolofinwë will kill me first and then his brother will kill me again!"

"I'll defend you, my brother," Carnistir smiled, entirely unconcerned.

"Of course you will. I'll just throw you at them and run."

"Oh, Turko. So brave…," Carnistir wrinkled his nose and leaned forward to steal another kiss. He squeaked when his brother grabbed him and made a solid demonstration of his strength out of their embrace. When they drew apart again, they were both laughing.

"Well… this isn't going anywhere," Carnistir observed dryly. "You know, what you just did is one heck of a way to behave for someone who's betrothed could be walking in here at any given time."

"Oh, _now_ you worry about it? Forgive me, but I have chosen the easiest way to coax you into telling me what you've done with our cousin. It's not my fault you're so pliant to seduction. But fear not, Irissë is waiting at a safe distance and she is probably concerned that it's taking me too long to persuade you."

"Pliant, my… To persuade me about what, Turko?" Carnistir huffed.

"We would like to sleep together in this tent, Irissë and I. If you don't mind, that is. I want us to exchange the rings that Atar made for us in the morning." 

"You know... normally, I would make you grovel a little longer, but I won't. This time. Of course you two can share this tent. In fact, Turukáno and I were thinking about sleeping together, but we decided to wait until the two of you returned. And you've taken your sweet time, so...," the younger Elf shrugged. "Come on, let's not make your lovely lady wait and worry any longer."

But before they stepped out of the tent, Carnistir embraced his brother again, caressing his cheek tenderly.

"I love you, Turko. May Eru bless your union with your beloved and rest assured that I am always with you, my brother," he whispered.

"Oh, Carnistir," Tyelkormo smiled. "I cannot wait to see you where I am today, beloved and happy as I am. But I will always watch over you and be there when you need me," he promised, pressing a kiss on Carnistir's forehead. "I love you, little brother." 

They both smiled tenderly and a moment later, Carnistir slipped his boots on and stepped out of the tent.

He saw Irissë walking back and forth just out of earshot and he cleared his throat as he approached her, amused to see her start and whirl around. 

"Moryo!" she called out, letting out a surprised yelp when he put his arms around her and crushed her to his chest.

"Congratulations, my sister, and welcome to the family!" he said, making her giggle.

"Oh, he told you...," she exhaled and blushed becomingly.

"Of course he did. And I am very happy for both of you. I know that my brother is a very lucky Elf and the two of you are made for each other," Carnistir told her. Irissë wanted to answer, but couldn't, as her lips were sealed and Carnistir gave her a firm kiss.

Tyelkormo coughed pointedly behind them, barely hiding an amused grin, when his brother released a stunned Irissë. She stared at him and Carnistir open-mouthed, mumbling something that was supposed to sound like "Thank you."

"I am going to sleep with your brother now," Carnistir announced, grinning over his shoulder and winking at Irissë. He walked briskly to the tent where Turukáno had gone to rest over an hour before his sister and his cousin had returned from their passionate venture in the woods.

Irissë stared as his retreating back, shook her head and turned to Tyelkormo. He smiled lovingly after his brother and then wrapped an arm around his beloved.

"Come, you've waited in the chill for too long. My brother has eagerly agreed to let us have the tent. For more than just what is left of this night," he said.

Irissë looked up at him questioningly. 

"What do you mean? And what is this wicked look on your face, my love?" she asked him, as they walked back to the tent that temporarily housed the belongings of both Fëanorions.

"I'll tell you when we get inside," Tyelkormo said. "But brace yourself, the news is quite extraordinary..."

***

Making a bit of noise as he entered Turukáno's tent, Carnistir smiled when his eyes fell on the sleeping form of his cousin, half covered by a blanket and beginning to wake.

"Turukáno...," he whispered. "Wake up, please."

Turukáno turned on his back and peered up at his cousin.

"Can I stay here with you?" Carnistir inquired, unable to suppress the broad grin that betrayed his excitement. He noticed the spark in Turukáno's eyes as his cousin returned the smile. "My brother and your sister were kind enough to leave me without a place to rest in and I was wondering... would you be so kind as to shelter me?" he added, tilting his head and mustering a pleading look. 

Turukáno felt the last traces of sleep vanish and a surge of renewed lust shot through him as he watched Carnistir's playful display.

"Hmm. Let me see...," he murmured, tossing the blanket aside. With an inviting expression, he crooked his forefinger and bid his cousin to join him, but he did not move to make room for Carnistir on the soft blankets. "Come here...," he purred.

"Thank you," Carnistir nodded graciously, before lowering himself on top of Turukáno and capturing his mouth in a searing kiss.


	7. MATCH MADE IN HELL

“The High Prince Fëanáro to see you, My Lord,” Fëanáro mimicked one of the maiden servants and knocked three times on Nolofinwë’s ornate study door.

“Send him in!” he heard his brother calling out and grinned wolfishly. He opened the door to reveal a wide and brightly lit room and in the middle of it, his brother sitting in a patch of golden light. Nolofinwë did not look up, merely tucked a few stray strands of hair behind his ear and scratched something quickly across a roll of parchment.

A moment later, Nolofinwë’s eyes shot up as he heard the bolt click. His lips parted as he gasped in surprise and to Fëanáro’s great amusement, he sported an ink stain near the corner of that delectable mouth. Without warning, he swept across the room and plunged his fingers into Nolofinwë’s hair, cupping the back of his head and tilting it upwards for a voracious kiss.

Nolofinwë did not taste like ink at all, but of strawberries and the sparkling wine he sipped from a goblet at his side. And like _himself_ , of course, which made Fëanáro purr contentedly. He loved the way Nolofinwë moaned softly and responded so eagerly, leaning toward him with a dreamy little smile when Fëanáro drew back, licking his lips. 

_So vastly different from the haughty and stiff half-brother of yore_ , Fëanáro mused. _Although the stiff part can easily be arranged,_ he grinned to himself, pressing a hard and very noisy smack on Nolofinwë’s smiling mouth and then laughing when his brother snorted indignantly.

“Hello, brother,” Fëanáro greeted him huskily.

“Fëanáro,” his brother sighed, but wistfully rather than in annoyance at being barged in upon and interrupted from his work. “This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until dinner.”

“You should _always_ expect me, Nolofinwë. Even I don’t know how long I can resist without coming to see you.”

“You… chronic sweet-talker,” Nolofinwë chuckled throatily, but a faint blush suffused his cheeks and his eyes told the full tale of how Fëanáro’s words thrilled him.  
In turn, it always thrilled Fëanáro to see the wonder in his brother’s eyes and his sheer joy when Fëanáro showered him with affection. Of course, it was still so new between them and they still clashed more often than not. Old habits died hard after all, but new ones were not that terribly difficult to acquire, especially not when it was so pleasant to see Nolofinwë happily surprised that his brother wanted him and loved him also.

“I missed you too, brother,” Fëanáro brushed Nolofinwë’s cheek tenderly. “But, that is not the only reason I rushed over here. I have news you’ll want to hear.”

Nolofinwë closed his eyes and leaned into the caress, but straightened himself and concern dispelled some of the pleasant haze inflicted upon him.

“Is something amiss?”

“Ah… why do you always think that something must be amiss when you have news from me?” Fëanáro groaned. “Shh, no. Don’t answer that. You’re partially right, this time. I have both good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?”

“The… bad news?” Nolofinwë eyed him uncertainly.

“Of course,” Fëanáro shrugged one shoulder and leaned over the desk to appropriate his brother’s drink. Laughter bubbled inside him as he drank and anticipated the look on his brother’s face at the ‘bad news’ he was about to deliver.

“Well…?” Nolofinwë shook his head minutely and reached for the chilled wine, snatching his goblet back and refilling it. “What is it? Come, don’t toy with me.”

Fëanáro cleared his throat loudly and grinned, momentarily too tempted by the idea of toying with his brother to recall much else.

“Right,” he chuckled, leaning against Nolofinwë’s desk. “My dear brother, I am sorry to announce you that the kingdom will be heavily tested and taxed in the near future. We have a _wedding_ to organize,” he said, struggling mightily to keep a straight face.

“A wedding? And… that’s the bad news, Fëanáro?” his brother eyed him skeptically, probably wondering whether he was subjected to a sample of Fëanorian humor he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet.

“Oh, yes. It’s terrible news because we are going to be completely overworked for Eru knows how long. It will be the event to dwarf all events and I wouldn’t be surprised if the Valar themselves will be in attendance.”

“What? Here, in Trion? Who’s getting married?”

Fëanáro threw his head back and laughed, clutching the edges of the desk to steady himself.

“What do you mean, who’s getting married? Our children, Nolofinwë. Why do you think I’m so worried that planning this wedding will drive us insane?”

“Our… children? Married?” Nolofinwë’s eyes widened and it was really such a comical display. Such a shame that the poor Elf couldn’t see himself gawking, Fëanáro thought.

“Yes… Why are you so surprised?”

“I’m… when did this happen? I mean, I knew it would sooner or later, those two are meant for each other, but I didn’t know Findekáno and Maitimo had plans for a betrothal. They never said anything to me about this.”

“What?! No! It’s not them,” Fëanáro bristled, shuddering at the thought before he could check himself. “I mean… they will be married sooner or later, like you said. I’ve absolutely nothing against that,” he backtracked. “But it’s not those two I’m talking about.”

“Who else, then?”

“Aaah, Nolofinwë. Please don’t tell me you have no idea. I can’t believe it. But fine, fine, don’t glare at me so. Tyelkormo and Carnistir have returned from the hunting trip with your children last evening. They are still with the others in my house, celebrating the good news and bracing themselves to tell you. That’s fairly much why I am here, to make it easier on them. Tyelkormo has asked your daughter to marry him and she said yes. You should see them, Nolofinwë, they are _radiant_. And that is my _good_ news,” Fëanáro smiled.

He was not entirely surprised to watch his brother fall back in his seat and cover his mouth in obvious stupefaction. But something about the way Nolofinwë’s brows drew together and his eyes darkened did not sit well with Fëanáro.

“You’re… serious about this? It’s not a joke?” Nolofinwë muttered behind his palm.

“Why would I be joking about something so wonderful?”

“Wonderful? Are you insane?”

“Hells, Nolofinwë, what are you saying? I thought you’d be pleased to hear this. Eru knows, it was high time they started thinking about marriage, before they accidentally conceive. It would be bad for all of us if they had a child out of wedlock.”

“A WHAT?!” Nolofinwë shot up and kicked his chair back. “What are you talking about?” he shuddered, glaring at Fëanáro incredulously.

“Oh, brother. Please… you can’t possibly mean that you don’t know what is between my son and your daughter. You’ve seen them together, for Eru’s sake! They are so in love you can’t even look at them for too long without your eyes watering.”

“Yes, I’ve seen them! But… marriage? Children? What is this madness?!”

“It’s the way of things, Nolofinwë. I did it, you did it… I don’t see why you’re so shocked and enraged,” Fëanáro said, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to refrain from slapping that affronted look off his brother’s face.

“Of course I’m shocked! How are you not? Do you condone this?”

“Do I… what do you mean? Of course I condone it. I was happy and relieved when Tyelkormo asked me to make the betrothal rings for him. They’ve been lovers for a while now and I rejoiced to see that they decided to make more of it than a simple dalliance. This will stop a lot of tongues from wagging, you know? I thought you’d be relived about that too.”

“Unbelievable…,” Nolofinwë muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and sidestepping his brother as he began to pace through the room. “How long have you known and said nothing?”

“Some weeks now. But I fail to see why that is so important. It was not my place to say anything before the two of them decided to exchange the rings.”

“Not your place… But no, I can’t believe that Irissë would just… and your son… Why didn’t he come to _me_ with this? She’s my daughter, for Eru’s sake, he should have asked _me_ for permission to court her! And you’re just standing there, casually telling me that your son has been making sport of Irissë for a long time?!”

“Nolofinwë!” Fëanáro growled. Suddenly, he did not like where the conversation was going at all. He felt his temper rising at his brother’s reaction and guessed what ran through Nolofinwë’s mind all too well.

“Fëanáro! You can’t be serious about this! They’re not getting married.”

“And why not?!”

“They can’t. They may be infatuated now, but it’ll pass,” Nolofinwë said, seemingly very determined to remain obtuse about what happened with his children.

“Infatuation, Nolofinwë?! Are you blind? Can you honestly not see that your children care deeply about mine?” Fëanáro’s voice rose, as did his need to shake the idiot before him until he understood that what bound their Houses was no matter to be taken lightly.

“I didn’t claim otherwise! I know they care for each other and enjoy each other’s company and fine, I understand that Findekáno is committed to your eldest… but gods, I never thought that Irissë… Of course she would be drawn to Tyelkormo, he is charming and a liaison with him was irresistible for her. I didn’t like it, I still don’t, but they’re both willful and in the end, there was nothing for it but to let them have their fun. Look, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against your son. But you know Tyelkormo, you know liberal he is with his affections. This whole marriage idea is foolish… unless Irissë is already with child!” all the blood drained from Nolofinwë’s face and he gave Fëanáro a horrified look.

“She’s _not_ with child!” Fëanáro hissed, jaw clenched and hands gripping the edge of the desk so tight his knuckles turned white. “And they are not just fooling around, you idiot! Tyelkormo loves your daughter. How dare you imply that he is merely toying with her and _spreads his affections liberally elsewhere_?! Careful, Nolofinwë… if you insult my son, you insult me.”

“This isn’t about you, damnit!”

“No, it’s about my son and your daughter. But you don’t think he’s good enough for her, do you?” Fëanáro goaded, completely incensed.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re thinking it. You’ve been hoping that there’s nothing more but bedsport between Irissë and my son because how could he possibly be worth more, eh? You bastard! How can you be so blind to your own children? What do you do all day, sit in here with your nose stuck in papers while their lives pass you by? And then you dare emerge all judgmental and angry when you have no idea what’s going on in your own house?!”

Nolofinwë whirled toward him, furious and all the more glorious for it, but for once, Fëanáro cared not for such things. He was furious on his son’s behalf and very close to decking the idiot in front of him for being so out of touch with reality.

“Oh, but you know everything, don’t you?” Nolofinwë hissed. “You’re such a perfect father, aren’t you?” he snorted derisively. “Tell me, do you bed them _all_ into telling you all their secrets? Is that how you run your house, brother?”

“You son of a whore!” Fëanáro exploded and lunged forward, but a vicious backhand caught him across the cheek, sending him backwards with tears of pain in his eyes. His jaw should have been numb but it stung and when Fëanáro touched his face, his fingers came away bloody.

Through the haze of shock and rage, he saw Nolofinwë holding up his hand and staring at it as though it did not belong to him. His signet ring had split Fëanáro’s skin and it glistened red with the evidence of it. For a moment, murderous rage roared so loudly in his ears that Fëanáro all but blacked out under the weight of it.

“No…,” Nolofinwë exhaled weakly, his face white and stark with disbelief. “Fëanáro, I…”

Snarling like a rabid animal, Fëanáro lunged for him but instead of throttling the bastard as every fiber in his body urged him to, he shoved Nolofinwë violently out of the way and heard him fall over the tea table. Breathing harshly through his nose, Fëanáro yanked open the bolt and threw back the door with enough force to splinter wood and mangle the knob. He strode away from the study, seething and pressing a hand against his bleeding cheek, knowing that if he did not put some distance between himself and Nolofinwë, he would break his brother.

 _His brother…_ , Fëanáro growled, eyes blazing with such naked fury that servants fled at the sight of him and nobody impeded his escape from the Eru forsaken place. _His HALF-brother, so righteous and so full of himself! The misbegotten bastard… how dare he say such things? Who did he think he was and what madness possessed him to believe his spawn above Tyelkormo?! Bedsport? Was that all Nolofinwë believed his son was worth? A tumble for fun and then onto some worthier mate that Nolofinwë must have had planned in that delusional head of his. How dare he?!_

Fists clenched at his sides and his heels digging deep pits into the finely raked gravel, he sped to the stables, seeing no one and hearing nothing of what was said to him on the way. Dimly, he knew that people gaped in shock and fright at his livid, bloody apparition, but he could care less. 

“Fool!” he hissed. But Nolofinwë was right about one thing. The match was poor and even though Tyelkormo truly believed himself in love, he would chafe and be stifled before long, tied to a woman’s skirts. Fëanáro knew Irissë, she knew how proud and willful she was and how she would clash with his temperamental son once the novelty of their marriage wore off. And he also knew that Tyelkormo needed _more_.

 _Your daughter may not be beneath my son, but she will never be enough for him, Nolofinwë!_ Fëanáro growled viciously within the confines of his head. “And I’ll be damned if I let her tie him to herself while you belittle him!”

His rage suddenly cooled and Fëanáro’s eyes narrowed when it occurred him that he knew exactly what to do. Ignoring the stable hands as they scrambled to bow before him and then scurried off to fetch his horse, he ran the idea through his mind and smiled icily. It would be good for Nolofinwë and his daughter to wake up and smell the roses, to see that Tyelkormo did _them_ a favor by wanting to make more of his affair with Irissë than it already was. Yes… at the very least, they’d know that his son didn’t lack better prospects.

“Atar! What in Eru’s name…? What happened to your face?” Maitimo materialized from nowhere, advancing on his startled father.

“Nelyo! Uh… it was an accident.”

“An accident?” Maitimo grabbed his shoulders and peered into his eyes, concern pressing his mouth into a thin line. “What happened? You are _livid_.”

“I am, eh? I spoke to Nolofinwë about your brother and Irissë. I thought it best to give him the news myself,” Fëanáro struggled to calm himself and push back the dangerous edge in his voice.

“It did not go well, I see.”

“It did not. I expected better from your uncle, Nelyo. But I was wrong. We fought. This happened,” he gestured to his cut cheek. “I have to go.”

“What? Where? Atar, calm yourself and talk to me. What do you mean, you fought? Was it so bad that it came to blows?” Maitimo’s fingers dug into his shoulders and in spite of his son’s obvious concern, Fëanáro wanted to shove him off.

“No, I tripped and landed on his fist… For Eru’s sake, let me be! I have to get out of here!” he growled.

“Where are you going?”

“To have a walk on the beach,” Fëanáro said, cocking his head and daring Maitimo to gainsay him.

“You’re going to Alqualondë?”

“I’m going to have a walk on the beach. Far away from here. I need to think.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re getting a horse and riding back home right now. Keep your cousins and your brothers there until I reutrn. It is unwise to let them come before Nolofinwë now.”

“Did you… hurt him?” Maitimo flinched at the stab of rage that caused Fëanáro’s body to stiffen beneath his hands.

“I didn’t beat him into a bloody pulp, if that’s what you’re so terrified about. Although the bastard deserves it. He decked me and I shoved him, Nelyo. That’s it, but if you want to avoid a disaster, let me leave now.”

“You mean to ride to Alqualondë with naught but the clothes on your back?”

“I’ll stop somewhere for supplies. Now please, get out of my way.”

Part of him wanted to embrace his son and apologize for the wounded look in Maitimo’s eyes. He should take Maitimo with him and tell him everything, ask for his advice and figure out what they should do for Tyelkormo. But Fëanáro also knew how his son would react, precisely what he would say and that it would be nothing Fëanáro wanted to hear. 

_Not this time, Nelyo…,_ he gave his son’s shoulder an apologetic squeeze.

“I’ll be alright. I just need to cool off and think about all this with a clear head. Don’t tell Tyelkormo anything, he’ll be too angry if you do.”

“Atar, _I_ am angry too! I need a word with Nolofinwë right now.”

“Suit yourself. Maybe he’ll deck you too. That son of a whore…,” he grimaced when he felt his cheek sting and droplets of blood still trickling down his skin.

Maitimo gasped and shook his head, sighing wearily but keeping his mouth shut. 

“Be careful!” he called out to his father when Fëanáro swung himself atop his mount and the horse snorted nervously beneath him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be gone long!” Fëanáro held out his hand and squeezed Maitimo’s fingers briefly as he rode past him. “Take care of yourself and your brothers.”

Maitimo nodded, clearly upset but mastering it bravely. With one last glance over his shoulder, Fëanáro spurred his mount into a run and thundered out of the courtyard, greatly looking forward to the freedom outside the city walls.

 _Oh, Nolofinwë… you will pay for this!_ he vowed, touching his wounded cheek. _You will pay for this in ways you can’t even imagine, you stupid, ungrateful bastard!_


	8. BURNING ME SOFTLY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot-bells rang and the muses pricked their ears when I first came upon the idea of close friendship between Celegorm and Curufin and Finarfin's boys, Angrod, Aegnor and Orodreth, in History of Middle Earth. Apparently, at some point in the evolution of the legends, Tolkien believed these five to be such fast friends that Celegorm and Curufin took their cousins aboard the ships and ferried them to Beleriand as if they were proper Fëanorians. Needless to say, I was intrigued by the idea and decided to use it in this story. 
> 
> Also, Angrod has the single most beautiful epessë I have ever come across, _Angamaitë_ , meaning _iron-handed_. This, in no way makes me think of nefarious things, just like Telperinquar's _silver-fist_ evokes only the most innocent thoughts in my head. Yes. I have decided that Celegorm gave Angrod his lovely epessë... and this complicates things a little.

BURNING ME SOFTLY

There was no rest for Nolofinwë in the darkness and stillness of his bedroom. He had tried to sleep but could only snatch an hour or two when weariness had overcome him. And there was no peace even then as his dreams were haunted and Nolofinwë woke furious… and afraid.

He had poured himself wine and drunk until the cloying taste of the liquor he had chosen only for its potency made his stomach roll and he abandoned the idea of drinking himself to sleep. He could have left his rooms, sought out company and entertainment, but Nolofinwë could not tolerate any more questions and least of all the silent scrutiny he had been subjected to for days.

It hadn’t taken Tirion long to be abuzz with news of its quarrelling princes. Servants had heard them, they had seen Fëanáro storm out of Nolofinwë’s mansion with blood on his face and murder in his eyes. They watched him flee the City, oblivious to everyone around him and within hours, speculation was ripe as to what had happened between the brothers. By evening, Finwë had heard his own servants gossip and the wounded look in his father’s eyes still made Nolofinwë want to scream. He had gone to dine with his father and his mother as planned, although he could not push one morsel of food into the twisted mess that was his stomach. Fëanáro was supposed to attend as well, but he did not come, of course. And having to explain why not was such a miserable affair that Nolofinwë felt he had been reduced to a guilty, errant child.

It was his fault, of course it was, he had provoked Fëanáro and how to explain to Finwë the reasons why? How express the deep misgivings Nolofinwë harbored against marriage between his daughter and Fëanáro’s third born? The High King was not the oblivious grandfather his many kinsmen believed him to be and he saw much of what happened between them, but he had said not a word against their dalliances and their passions. Still, he can’t have understood and was not supposed to know about the turn Nolofinwë’s relationship with Fëanáro had taken, that much even Fëanáro had agreed upon. But how to tell their father about their vicious lashing out against one another without touching other matters? 

Fetching a deep sigh, Nolofinwë pressed his fingers against his tired, stinging eyes. He passed his hands over his face and through his hair, groaning miserably and cursing his brother for disappearing. Nolofinwë dreaded seeing him again, and indeed, who would not, but how else were they to attempt reconciliation and break the tension that had fallen over their family as a stifling cloak? 

Finwë had sent word to Fëanáro’s home, but Maitimo had replied in his father’s stead, saying that he knew not where his father had gone but that he would return before long. One day had passed, then the next and on the third morning, Turukáno and Irissë had ridden home. They tried to appear carefree and to recount their adventures but their excitement was forced and it broke Nolofinwë’s heart to see the unspoken fears lurking in their eyes. Even Turukáno seemed apprehensive and ill-pleased by the new strife as for Irissë… she made no mention of her betrothal and, to her father’s silent heartbreak, she wore no sliver ring on her finger.

Had Fëanáro dashed straight to his home in anger and told Irissë how Nolofinwë had reacted to the news? But at the gates, Fëanáro had been seen riding east in great haste. It must have been Maitimo, who declined both Finwë’s and Nolofinwë’s request to speak with them and, after pacing through the house restlessly for a whole day, Findekáno had ridden out at Laurelin’s waning. He had given his father a look of such anxiousness and reproach that Nolofinwë felt tears of frustration welling in his eyes. And they were not the first to blur his vision either, because his own daughter hid from him and affected such weariness from her travels that she took her meals into her rooms and would speak only to her mother when Anairë refused to be gone from her chambers.

The following morning, Turukáno had thrown his chair back and left the table when he learned that Findekáno had run to his cousins. Arakáno sat silently and looked between his father and his furious brother with big, wounded eyes and… after a moment of extremely tense silence, he excused himself and followed Turukáno. It made Nolofinwë wonder just how blind he had been to the ties that bound his children to Fëanáro’s, because he could have sworn Turukáno’s anger stemmed not from thinking that his brother had betrayed them by breaking ranks, but because Findekáno had said nothing and had not taken Turukáno with him. 

Alone with his wife, Nolofinwë endured her silence for long, heavy moments, while the servants shifted uncertainly and did not know whether to collect the untouched food or not. His wife had not thrown a single word of reproach in his face, but she did not have to. Nolofinwë knew what Anairë thought and how she felt. She had always been wary and apprehensive about the way her children were drawn to their cousins and her silence all but screamed _’I told you so. I told you it would come to this.’_

Trapped in such tension and misery, Nolofinwë tried to withdraw into his work, but could hardly focus on anything and his frustration mounted until he too wished for nothing more than to jump on horseback and run away. But he could not afford that luxury, not when he knew that Fëanáro would return and when he did, Nolofinwë needed to seek him out and speak with him.

Of course, Nolofinwë was still angry and of course the insult Fëanáro had given him still stung, but it paled in the wake of how guilty he felt and how sickened by the memory of blood staining his brother’s cheek. They had quarreled before, ever since Nolofinwë had grown old and brave enough to stand up to his brother, but it had never come to blows and Nolofinwë had never thought he would dare raise a hand against his brother. 

What madness had driven him to lash out so violently, he could not guess. Perhaps he had been emboldened by the physical closeness between them. Perhaps seeing Fëanáro warmer and much more vulnerable in their intimacy had empowered Nolofinwë and, when rage washed over him, he used that power to hurt his brother. It made Nolofinwë shudder violently to remember the look in Fëanáro’s eyes as he reeled back and touched his bloody cheek. The disbelief, the wrath, the hatred burning in those eyes had branded Nolofinwë and seared him worse than if Fëanáro had retaliated with violence. For a heart-stopping moment, Nolofinwë had been sure that his brother would tear him apart, but Fëanáro had fled and somehow, that was worse. He had never gone before having the last word, before knowing that he had put Nolofinwë in his place. He should have stayed and fought back and the fact that he did not made Nolofinwë wonder miserably whether Fëanáro had run to deny his brother the satisfaction of seeing him hurt beyond the gash in his cheek. 

Nolofinwë’s hand shook, the same treacherous hand that had worn the signet… and maybe, if he had not unwillingly drawn blood, Fëanáro would have reacted differently. Maybe they would have exchanged blows and grappled and torn each other’s clothes off and taken the fight elsewhere. Perhaps passion would have burned the wounds clean, Nolofinwë knew it could and he wished it had been so. But Fëanáro was gone and the resentful part of Nolofinwë wondered if his brother had anticipated the great mess he left behind.

_Of course he has!_ Nolofinwë mused bitterly, falling back on the bed with a frustrated growl. His head spun and his stomach lurched, making Nolofinwë spring to his feet and run to his bathing chamber. He emptied his stomach in great, painful heaves, as the blood-red wine came up with little else. He had eaten close to nothing all day and small wonder he had made himself sick. 

Shivering and shaking on unsteady legs, Nolofinwë splashed cold water over his face and cleaned his mouth. He recalled the pitcher of cold chamomile tea forgotten on his night-stand since the morning and resolved to drink some of it, hoping it would settle his stomach. Drying himself, Nolofinwë returned to his bedroom and fell back against the door with a startled gasp when his eyes came upon on a figure sitting cross-legged on his bed. Wide-eyed, Nolofinwë recognized Fëanáro, wearing non-descript travel clothes and what seemed like a worried look, although his burning eyes spoke of so much more and Nolofinwë’s head spun anew. He hadn’t heard Fëanáro come in and seeing him there brought Nolofinwë’s heart in his throat.

“Fëanáro…,” he whispered and searched his brother for signs of the wound he had inflicted upon him. But the shadows that fell on his brother’s face hid him from Nolofinwë’s anxious scrutiny.

“You are unwell,” Fëanáro observed and crossed the distance between them swiftly.

Nolofinwë shrank against the door instinctively when Fëanáro reached out and touched his forehead. Their eyes did not quite meet as his brother studied him with a small frown and his warm hand slid over Nolofinwë’s cheek.

“Come, sit. I heard you emptying your stomach,” Fëanáro maneuvered him toward the bed and Nolofinwë went without protest, too stunned by the apparition and too caught up in wondering what in Eru’s name to say to him. 

Fëanáro seemed calm, but one could never be sure with him and Nolofinwë knew that it would take so very little to rekindle his wrath. He did not know what else to do but keep his mouth shut and try to gauge Fëanáro’s mood.

“You shouldn’t drink this on an empty stomach,” Fëanáro said, shaking his head as he eyed the almost empty bottle on Nolofinwë’s nightstand. A small smile played on his brother’s lips and Nolofinwë thought that surely, his eyes did not work properly. “Believe me, I know. I was sick a whole day and Curufinwë could hold nothing down the day after either, when we first drank too much of this vintage. It’s very rich and heavy and utterly disgusting when coming back up. Here, drink this,” he offered the bewildered Nolofinwë a cup of tea.

Nolofinwë took the cup with hands that shook worse than before and struggled to swallow past the painful lump in his throat. 

“Does your head ache?” Fëanáro asked him, standing before Nolofinwë and still bearing that small, sympathetic smile. There was only a faint line on his cheek, the gash healed and the crust fallen away, but Nolofinwë wanted to touch it and make sure. 

“Um… no,” he said around the cup still pressed to his lips.

“Not yet, you mean,” Fëanáro replied, both chiding and amused and confusing Nolofinwë to no end. “You should be so lucky to escape the unpleasant effects. Lie down, you’re so pale and clammy.”

“Fëanáro…”

But his brother merely patted his shoulder and strode to the bathing chambers, graceful and sure of himself and perfectly at ease. Bewildered, Nolofinwë took another sip and set the cup aside. He was shaking and sweating, but wine had so little to do with it and surely, Fëanáro knew it. A shuddering sigh tore past his lips and Nolofinwë lowered himself on the pillows, closing his eyes. 

“Here,” Fëanáro spoke softly and Nolofinwë felt the bed dip as his brother sat by his side. “Shh, let me,” he said and dabbed a cold, damp towel over Nolofinwë’s face. 

Nolofinwë sighed and let his hands drop at his sides, startled when one of them fell on Fëanáro’s thigh. He meant to snatch it back, but warm fingers closed over his and held him gently in place. 

“How do you feel? Is it better now?” Fëanáro asked him.

“I… I think so. But, Fëanáro, I’m… confused,” Nolofinwë sighed, searching those unfathomable eyes and finding nothing but gentleness in his brother’s smile. “When did you get here? How?”

“I climbed through your window. I know my way to your bedroom fairly well by now,” Fëanáro’s smile grew for a moment and then faltered. “I came as soon as I could, after arriving home and finding my family in an upheaval. But I did not wish to be accosted with questions by anyone in your household or atar’s, so I sneaked in. Don’t hit me for it, please?”

“Oh, Fëanáro…,” Nolofinwë groaned and sat up. “Gods, I’m so sorry about that,” he raised an unsteady hand and touched his brother’s cheek. 

Fëanáro did not flinch or move away, and the embers in his eyes did not flare up. He allowed Nolofinwë to trace the slightly raised scar and then covered his palm, bringing Nolofinwë’s fingers to his lips.

“You _should_ be sorry about that, but don’t worry. It’s healing. Before long, there won’t be any trace left. Not on my skin, anyway.”

“I’m sorry…,” Nolofinwë murmured, wanting to look away from his brother’s inscrutable eyes but also wishing to wrap his arms around Fëanáro and kiss his cheek until the very memory of his violence faded. “I shouldn’t have raised my hand against you. No matter how angry I was… there is no excuse. But I _am_ sorry, Fëanáro.”

“I know. So am I. But I deserved it. I would have probably done worse if I were in your place.”

“You… I thought you would,” Nolofinwë averted his eyes. “I was so horrified by what I had done that… if you wanted to snap my neck just then, I don’t think I would have fought back.”

“I know that, too. It’s why I left. We’d said and done enough regrettable things by then,” Fëanáro paused and pressed another kiss on Nolofinwë’s fingers, before lowering their joined hands between them. 

Nolofinwë’s breath caught and he shivered, unable to reconcile his wrathful brother with the warm and gentle Elf that sat by his side and spoke to him so calmly.

“Listen… I know you’re surprised and this is so very unlike me,” Fëanáro seemed to be reading his thoughts. “I am still very angry and I’ve no doubt that you are too, but it is a luxury we cannot afford, Nolofinwë. I’ve seen the way our families were affected by our quarrel and for their sake, we cannot continue like this.”

Taken aback, Nolofinwë gaped, hearing from his brother’s mouth words that he had planned to tell Fëanáro himself.

“I know atar is upset and disappointed,” Fëanáro carried on, nodding minutely at Nolofinwë’s unhappy grimace. “I found Turko in a state when I returned and your firstborn cornered me with questions about what happened between us. And it’s not just them. Nelyo is angry with us both, Moryo gave me the cold shoulder and I think that if Ambarussa were home, they would have been ill-pleased as well. The truth is… we can’t afford to clash and let pride get the better of us. If it were just you and I, we could butt heads until they crack, but it is not about us at all.”

“I know,” Nolofinwë sighed miserably. “My children are very angry with me, all of them. Irissë won’t come out of her chambers for fear of having to face me and Turukáno will not speak a word of what came to pass in your house. Did you go to them after we fought? Did you tell them what transpired between us?”

“No. I did not. I could not go home like _that_. But… Nelyo was at the stables when I went to fetch my horse. I could not keep what happened from him. He must have returned home to warn Irissë and Turukáno that it was unwise to seek you out just then. Nelyo must have told his brother and Irissë’s that you are against their betrothal and that is why…”

“Oh, gods!” Nolofinwë moaned, falling back on the bed and covering his face with both palms. “No… That explains why there was no ring on her finger when she came home. My poor Irissë, how she smiled and tried to pretend that nothing was amiss, but she could not endure that for too long and now she hides… Fëanáro, what have I done?”

“What have _we_ done, Nolofinwë. Both of us. I am just as much at fault here as you are. I’ve thought about it a lot while I was away. How your ire took over and I goaded you on and spouted hurtful things and you spouted hurtful things and… I truly hoped we had moved on from that, brother.”

Nolofinwë shot up and reached out for Fëanáro, pride and anger be damned. 

“Please forgive me, Fëanáro. You are right, this is not how things should be between us,” he whispered, throat closing painfully and eyes stinging with unshod tears. He wrapped his arms around Fëanáro and welcomed his strong embrace with a shuddering sigh. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw himself clinging and wondered when he had been reduced to such an emotional wreck, but Nolofinwë dismissed the traitorous thought and held on, fingers clutching Fëanáro’s tunic.

“I forgive you, brother,” Fëanáro said. 

“I did not want to hurt you…,” Nolofinwë’s breath caught and he muffled his sob in Fëanáro’s hair.

“Shh, it is behind us now. But will you forgive me also?”

Nolofinwë struggled out of the embrace, needing to see his brother’s face and shuddering at the intensity of his eyes. There was _need_ there, so many kinds of need… and Nolofinwë knew he would not deny him no matter what Fëanáro asked for.

“Of course I forgive you,” he said, squeezing Fëanáro’s shoulders and feeling the relief in his brother’s smile.

“We should never let such grief divide us again. I’ve been so miserable about this,” Fëanáro whispered urgently and something inside Nolofinwë snapped.

Without another word, he pulled Fëanáro back against him and kissed him insistently, anger and nausea forgotten. He swallowed Fëanáro’s surprised moan and coaxed his lips apart, shuddering at the utter relief of being able to do so again. He may not have been his brother’s lover for long, but in that time, their closeness had become such an addiction that Nolofinwë wondered how he had kept living and breathing with the thought that he may have lost the right to taste that mouth again. His father’s grief and his children’s anger had been at the forefront of his mind and must have kept him from despairing that Fëanáro would never want to see him again, let alone touch him and love him.

But oh, Fëanáro wanted to touch him, he ignited immediately and although Nolofinwë had kissed him first, he soon found himself on his back, enveloped in heat and passion and a curtain of silky hair. He gasped and spread himself for more intimate closeness, his own body coming alive with a needful moan. It happened fast, their touches urgent and their kisses frantic, as clothes flew and breath sped. Skin on skin, they rolled on the bed and grappled in a tangle of limbs, desperate to merge and having no patience for gentle love-making. With hardly any preparation, Nolofinwë sank onto his brother’s cock, burning… burning everywhere as he bit back a scream and then bucked in wild abandon, aching to take him deeper… and then deeper still. Spurred on by the same imperative, Fëanáro threw him back, folded in him half and drove himself into him with force that his wrath could never match.

For a moment they were suspended in such searing bliss that tears sprang from Nolofinwë’s eyes and he sobbed, overwhelmed by pleasure. He felt lips on his eyes, a warm breath on his damp cheeks and a ragged voice reassuring him that he was needed, that he was loved. Then, relief and exhaustion pulled him under and Nolofinwë knew no more. 

***

“I’m still here, brother…”

Nolofinwë tore his eyes open, grit clinging to his lashes and making it hard for him to focus. It was no longer dark in the room, so morning must have come while he had slept. He turned to the familiar voice and smiled when he saw Fëanáro at his side, head propped on one hand and hair falling unbound over his bare shoulders. Nolofinwë turned on his side and groaned loudly when his muscled protested against it. His back ached and his thighs felt as though something had pulled each muscle the wrong way. He stung something fierce and felt as though a hot poker had been rammed up his ass. His head fell back on the pillows and he laughed at the thought, remembering that it was _precisely_ what had happened.

“Well… good morning to you too,” Fëanáro grinned lazily, stroking his cheek and stealing a quick kiss from Nolofinwë’s laughing mouth. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just… ouch! What did we do? My back feels as though someone stuck a cracker in there and set fire to it,” Nolofinwë rubbed his eyes and tried to stretch his sore limbs, but it was not a very good idea.

Fëanáro laughed as well, but then shuffled closer and there was a sheepish look in his eyes when he lowered himself to kiss Nolofinwë again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. But, Nolofinwë… you didn’t even give me a chance to prepare you. You were on me so fast and so wild I forgot about everything else. We really lost it, both of us. Let me fetch some salve and have a look at you.”

“No,” Nolofinwë cupped the back of his brother’s head and kept him in place for a long, firm kiss. “I’ll live, so stay right here.”

“Are you sure? We’re still a sticky mess, my legs couldn’t quite carry me to the bathroom and back, so I fell asleep right after you did. I should…”

“Stay. Hold me,” Nolofinwë said, knowing what he sounded like and caring not one whit. He needed a moment for his head to clear and to accept that Fëanáro was actually there. It didn’t hurt to have those powerful arms around him, to remind Nolofinwë that their fight had passed and his brother had returned to him. 

Moaning softly, he rearranged his thoroughly used body, ignoring the patch of dried semen on his stomach and focusing on Fëanáro’s heartbeat instead. He rested his head on the hard, but so wonderfully warm pillow and nestled as close as possible, welcoming the arms that encased him in a tight hold. 

“Are you well?” Fëanáro asked him.

“Better than I’ve been in days,” Nolofinwë sighed contentedly. “Sore… and my head feels as though it’s been stuffed with wool, but it’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” Fëanáro pressed a kiss on the top of Nolofinwë’s head. “Make-up sex is glorious, but I still wish it hadn’t been necessary.”

There was laughter in his brother’s voice, but also a hint of sadness and it brought forth another sigh from Nolofinwë. They had not finished talking when lust took over and gave them that excruciatingly wonderful catharsis. But so much still needed to be said and Nolofinwë wondered if he was in the right mind for it, while his head still swam and he still swooned from their closeness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Shh, stop saying that. You’ve said it enough by now. I believe you.”

“Not just for the fight and for hitting you, Fëanáro. But for what I said, too.”

“What you said, hmm?”

“Yes. You know… that petty thing about you bedding all your sons,” Nolofinwë muttered and felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment at the recollection. His head shook and beneath his ear, he felt Fëanáro’s laughter.

“That was… rather priceless. But it’s not true, Nolofinwë.”

“I know it’s not.”

“Do you, though? Because I know what it must look like. I am very close to them all, I want them to trust me with their worries and their secrets. I try not to judge my boys, no matter what they do and what they come to me with, but that doesn’t mean I would… Nelyo is quite enough, brother.”

That did not ring well in Nolofinwë's’s ear and he frowned, shifting in the embrace and wishing he could look his brother in the eye. But he was held firmly in place.

“No, hear me out first. Do you think I don’t know what I’ve done to Nelyo? What I’ve turned him into? I am well aware that I have taken what a father’s relationship with his son should be and pushed it into… I don’t even know what it is right now, but I’ve changed Nelyo and I’m not always sure it’s for the better. I was so young when I had him, Nolofinwë. Not even a hundred years old when my son came of age. Even back then, I needed things that I could trust no one with and I was so lonely… I did have Nerdanel, of course, but not one friend I could trust with the things I could not open up about in front of my wife. I don’t mean just the physical desire for another male, it’s always been much more than that. So… when Nelyo grew, I knew that I could trust him. I had _made_ him, he was _mine_ and he accepted it so willingly that before we knew it, he had become so much more than my son. He was my lover and my best friend and, more often than not, my voice of reason too. My own son, Nolofinwë! I stole his youth because I needed him and now we’re both such a mess. There are so few boundaries left and we are learning to be just father and son again. I can’t tell you how guilty I feel for what I’ve done to him and how undeserving of such an amazing child I am. So believe me when I tell you that I do not bed any of my sons and I am so very grateful to Findekáno for loving my Nelyo and not judging him for what I turned him into.”

Nolofinwë raised himself and looked at his brother, stunned by the unexpected confession. Fëanáro had never spoken about his complicated relationship with his firstborn and although Nolofinwë needed to know (for the sake of his own firstborn if for no other, selfish reasons), he had met little more than tight-lipped tension from both Fëanáro and Maitimo on the matter. But hearing Fëanáro speak so openly and seeing the warring emotions so plainly written on that fair face stole Nolofinwë's breath away and all he could do was to reach out and brush his fingers over Fëanáro's cheek. It was so very strange to see guilt and uncertainty in those eyes, and even more so to hear his brother admit he had been mistaken... that he had done wrong. Nolofinwë wanted to give him reassurance, the need to do so rose inside him along with the desire to comfort him and when had it come to that between them?

"Fëanáro, you... Don't say that. You've raised a fine son."

"Nelyo raised himself, I think. Or rather, we grew up together and he helped me raise his brothers. I know he is a fine Elf. He is probably the fairest, wisest and kindest of us all. I don't think I have ever met anyone with so much love to give, save for our father, perhaps. It brings me a small measure of relief that I haven't been able to hoard it all for myself."

At a loss for words, Nolofinwë took his brother's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, smiling in understanding as he saw the pride in Fëanáro's eyes, the deep abiding love and longing for the son who was so much more to him than a son. The underlying guilt still made Nolofinwë's stomach knot painfully, but what could he possibly say? Perhaps Fëanáro simply needed to be heard.

"Don't think I don't know why your son and mine manipulated us into each other's arms. It was long due, I agree with them," Fëanáro's lips curved into a meaningful smile and Nolofinwë flushed with warmth under it. "But they wanted us to be together for more than just your happiness and mine. I'm certain that they wanted me to quit looming over their relationship. You've seen me with my son and how easy it is to fall back into the physical closeness between us. I would not come between them, but still, they had to be sure and as my son's lover, I am angered. But as his farther... gods, what kind of a father thinks that way? What kind of a father even makes that distinction?"

"Shh," Nolofinwë pressed a soft kiss on his brother's lips, because what else was there to do and how else to mask his own uneasiness? By that line of reasoning, he was a replacement for Maitimo, a diversion put in Fëanáro's path to keep him distracted and the thought sent cold shivers down Nolofinwë's spine. But no, he could not think himself manipulated so. And he could not let it darken the precious closeness between him and Fëanáro. Eru knew, it came under enough threat as it was.

"I'm sorry... for the rant," Fëanáro murmured on his lips. 

"No. No, listen. You said that love between us was long overdue and you are absolutely right. But so is trust. Don't be afraid to speak to me. I can try to be more than just your lover."

"You would be my friend as well?" 

Nolofinwë felt the lips beneath his curve into a tentative smile even as he kept peppering them with soft kisses.

"I would."

"It won't be easy to have trust and confidence between us. And it runs both ways, Nolofinwë."

"I know."

It was probably not the ideal way to win such trust or build such confidence, but Nolofinwë climbed atop his brothers and let his full weight blanket the hard body beneath. He kissed Fëanáro slowly, thoroughly and it felt like a baring of their souls as much as an awakening of their bodies.

"We should talk like this more. Not merely clash, whether it is in anger or lust," Nolofinwë said as he drew back.

He saw Fëanáro's eyes already dark and unfocused with desire and it thrilled him that he had accomplished it with a single kiss. But Fëanáro came to his senses, albeit with obvious effort and belying the way his hands stroked Nolofinwë's sides.

"You're not really helping with that right now," he laughed softly. "There is one other thing that we must discuss before leaving this bed, though. Right now, as much as I want your lips on me again."

"Tyelkormo and Irissë," Nolofinwë sighed and rolled off, wincing at the loss of heat as much as the various aches and pains in his body.

"Yes. There was a reason I threw my Nelyo pity party just now. Shh, hear me out. I wanted you to know why I gave my others sons so much free rein. Because Nelyo has always been so closely bound to me and so deep in my power, I swore to myself that I would do better with the others. And so... as each of my other sons grew, I struggled not to meddle in their affairs. I never chided them or stopped them from doing anything, much to Nerdanel's wrath. I promised myself that I would show them nothing but support and understanding and a shoulder to cry on when they messed up. And I've kept that promise, although it hasn't always been easy. This is why Tyelkormo has always been such a free spirit... to name just one of them. I never held him back nor did I tell him to refrain. So, yes... he has had many lovers, both female and male. But he has always been fair, Nolofinwë. And he loves your daughter."

"I know that. And I never said he is not good enough for her when we fought. _You_ chose to hear that."

"I did. I'm sorry. I am very defensive of them. In that, at least, I am a true father."

"Will you stop it about that?" Nolofinwë nudged his brother. "Enough. You will cease to speak poorly about yourself. Your sons idolize you and if they were here, I am sure they would stand in line to chide you about this... what did you call it? Pity party?"

"No, if they were here, they would gawk at us being so wonderfully naked in bed," Fëanáro chuckled, as he saw his brother squirm uneasily at the thought. 

"Indeed. But that is beside the point, don't try to distract me. And I mean it, Fëanáro. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you are a wonderful father and to be completely honest with you, I envy your closeness to your. I only wish I knew mine as well as you know yours, or that they trusted me as much as your sons trust you. Maybe then I would know how they feel and what they want better. For the life of me, I never imagined that Irissë would want to wed so soon or that she is so deeply in love with your son. How poorly does it reflect on me that I did not know something so very important about my daughter?"

"You're not allowed a pity party either, brother. But you are right, there are many things you do not know. No, no... don't give me that look, it's not my place to tell, nor do I hint at matters of life and death. You must speak with your children, though. Show them understanding, don't bristle, don't judge them and they will open up to you, I am sure of it."

"That is easy for you to say. And far easier said than done. But I will. I must speak with them. I see that things are afoot that I should learn about."

"First, though, they must all see that we have made peace and our differences will not come between them. I don't mean just Turko and Irissë, but _all_ our children. We will show them, yes?"

"We will. And we should also speak privately with Irissë and Tyelkormo. Marriage is a serious matter and I want to hear that they are committed from them both. But I still wonder, brother... Will your son contend himself with my daughter alone? I do not mean him insult nor do I believe him faithless. I simply wonder... will they be enough for each other?"

"I am with you in this, I wonder the same. They seem to be certain that they will never desire anyone else but each other. But we thought the same when we wed, did we not?"

"Yes," Nolofinwë whispered, lowering his eyes. "We did and look at us now. Which is why I fear for Irissë. Surely you cannot blame me if I want more for her than what Anairë has now. Or your wife."

"I know," Fëanáro replied throatily and the look they shared was riddled  
with guilt. "But this is in our blood. All my sons desire males and females equally. Yours as well. Everyone with father's blood. Even father himself. It is who we are."

"Father? What? Who?!" Nolofinwë gaped.

"Ah, I know not and do not want to know. I would never presume to ask. But he spoke to me of Nelyo and Findekáno once and told me not to worry, that there is nothing amiss with them and he would never discourage love regardless of gender and kinship. Of course, he wanted to know where I stood on the matter and I squirmed under his gaze because how could I tell him of my desire for my own son? Lying to atar is torture."

"Don't I know it..."

"One day, we will have to tell him about the love that grows between us. I know, I know, it frightens me too, but he should learn it from us before we are caught and we _will_ be caught because I cannot keep my hands off you."

 

In a demonstration of his words, Fëanáro pulled Nolofinw close and kissed him hungrily. They were both breathless and doused with renewed fire when they pulled apart.

“You’re right, we must speak to father, but we can’t shock him with this now. We must prepare him for the news of Irissë’s betrothal first,” Nolofinwë said, struggling to catch his breath.

“How about this? As soon as I manage to wrench myself from you, I’ll climb out the window and come through the front door with an _official_ apology. You can even make me wait while you bathe and soothe away all your soreness. I won’t mind,” Fëanáro grinned teasingly. “In fact, I might convince one of your servants to fetch me something to eat. When you come down to meet me, we’ll sequester ourselves in your study where you can talk, but I will most likely kneel before you and pleasure you with my mouth extensively, because what better things to say than that are there?”

Nolofinwë shivered, instantly aroused by the images his brother brought forth. He shifted closer and pressed his erection against Fëanáro’s thigh, drawing a pleased smirk from his brother.

“When we finish… talking, I will send for Turko and you should ask Irissë to be ready for his arrival. Before he is in Tirion, though, you and I will see father and apologize for being such miscreants. And once he is at ease about you and I again, we will call for Turko and Irissë to come before their grandfather and speak to him about their plans. They can explain themselves before the three of us all at once and we will have a very serious, very calm conversation. But no matter what, you and I will present a united front and we will support our children. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like you are the genius in our family for good reasons," Nolofinwë smiled broadly. "We will do as you said and gods, Fëanáro, I thought I would have to plead with you for all this."

Fëanáro threw his head back and laughed, leaving Nolofinwë to stare at him and tremble at the sheer beauty of what he saw.

"Oh, my brother...," Fëanáro kissed him thoroughly and he tasted of unbridled joy. Nolofinwë wanted him to always, always be that way. "You are so used to Fëanáro the bastard that thoughtfulness and kindness from me still seem out of place, no?"

It was difficult to answer that question without darkening the mood, and so, Nolofinwë teased instead. 

"I believed thoughtfulness and kindness are _my_ part in the family dynamics," he poked Fëanáro's shoulder playfully.

"No, that's Arafinwë..."

"Oh, speaking of Arafinwë...," Nolofinwë sobered up. "We must speak to him as well. I don't know if sending a messenger with the new of Irissë's betrothal is a good idea. I would tell him and his sons personally and I would watch Angaráto carefully, to see how he receives the news." 

A shadow passed over Fëanáro's face, but he said nothing, waiting for Nolofinwë to continue.

"Brother, surely you know there was love between your son and Angaráto before Tyelkormo turned to Irissë."

"I do know that, yes," Fëanáro said. "I also know that it gave Turko great grief to alienate his cousin. All three of them, because the other two broke friendship with Kurvo and Turko as well. I cannot blame them, but it saddened me to see such close friendship go to waste because Turko simply could not be Angaráto's lover anymore. But he was not tossed aside, by no means, it was the hardest thing Turko ever had to do and the guilt is with him to this day."

"Have you told Arafinwë any of this?"

"No. I didn't think it was my place and... he never broached the subject with me. Why?"

"Ah... he would not. But he gave me plenty of grief about it. His son was heartbroken, or so Arafinwë claims, and he accused my daughter of seducing Tyelkormo away from his son," Nolofinwë said, grimacing at the mere memory of that confrontation.

"Oh, Eru... What a mess! I'm sorry," Fëanáro carded his fingers through Nolofinwë's hair and kissed his soothingly. "But surely all that is passed now? I saw Arafinwë as jovial and affectionate as ever at the feast. And his sons seemed to be enjoying themselves as well, even Angaráto. I sensed no tension between Arafinwë's sons and my own."

"That does not mean there was not any. I recall how Angaráto steadfastly avoided Tyelkormo and Curufinwë and it was just as well, because Tyelkormo and Irissë were inseparable that evening."

"I saw nothing of this," Fëanáro frowned thoughtfully. "But then, I only had eyes for you that evening. I burned to have you and I must admit I could think of nothing else."

A sound of surprise and need tore from Nolofinwë's throat and he threw himself at Fëanáro, pushing him back on the pillows and kissing him voraciously. Oh, he burned as well and the memory of that night was enough to harden him to the point of pain whenever he let his mind wander back to his glorious seduction. But he needed no memory, the fire was right _there_ , beneath him, raising himself off the bed and spreading his legs to draw Nolofinwë even closer. Fëanáro moaned into his mouth and opened himself to the kiss fully, fingers digging into Nolofinwë's hips and pressing him even closer.

They strove against each other, bucked and writhed impatiently, the sheet slipping off them and tangling around their ankles. They bit and licked and panted harshly, so tightly entwined that not even a hand could slip between them and in the end, it was not necessary. Completely overrun by need, Nolofinwë would have struggled out of the embrace and pleaded to be taken, but Fëanáro felt his thoughts and held him in an iron grip, arms and legs clasping Nolofinwë in the most wonderful prison. 

_Maybe he should claim Fëanáro instead?_ The thought flashed across Nolofinwë’s mind and he throbbed to the point of spilling his seed against his brother's length. But no, there was no time for that and they hadn't spoken of it and surely Fëanáro hadn't let anyone master him. He would have to trust Nolofinwë a great deal and it would be slow going, not the frantic grapple they were so caught up in. When Fëanáro threw his head back with a guttural groan and bared his throat for Nolofinwë, he effectively banished all coherent thought from his brother's mind. Only hunger remained and Nolofinwë _feasted._

Blood roared in his ears and his eyes burned in Nolofinwë's head, but he would not close them. He had to see, he had to commit to memory the peerless beauty beneath him, all flushed and wanton, his eyes blazing wildly. Fëanáro knew, he always knew and those unbearable eyes of his never left Nolofinwë's, holding him thrall. _Forever_... the word plummeted across Nolofinwë's consciousness and he fell with it, but not before Fëanáro grew taut beneath him and his eyes rolled back in his head. Those red, bitten lips parted before a silent moan and he made no sound as he came. Nolofinwë wondered whether the fire inside his brother consumed his breath and burned through his throat in such muted screams. 

But ah, how glorious he was in his pleasure, and how hot... So unbearably hot! Nolofinwë thrust into the slick heat between them once, then again and he too was gone, groaning loudly.

The glorious swoon took him and Nolofinwë fell atop his brother bonelessly, vaguely aware of Fëanáro's little moan of protest. But he was not released from the full body embrace and they floated together in blissful release. 

Time passed them by and surely it was growing late. The house and the whole city had surely woken around them, but Nolofinwë did not have the heart to release his brother. Or the energy to roll off him, at least.

For a good, long while, Fëanáro said nothing, merely struggled to breathe with all of Nolofinwë's weight on his chest. He might have even drifted into sleep, but Nolofinwë felt fingers in his hair, trying to comb through the damp, tangled mass without much success. He drew in a deep breath and tried to push himself off, equally unsuccessful. He fell back with a grunt and pressed apologetic little kisses on Fëanáro's neck.

"I'm never getting out of this bed, am I?" Fëanáro laughed breathlessly.

"I could live with that."

"Mmm," Fëanáro drew his brother's head closer and kissed him languidly. He tasted of satisfaction and Nolofinwë drank deeply, purring contentedly. He licked Fëanáro's bottom lip and drew back to bask in his brother's delightful smile... and the knowledge that _he_ had made his brother so happy.

"Uh... help?" he chuckled a moment later, trying to dislodge himself from Fëanáro, but his limbs still refused to cooperate.

Very gently, Fëanáro extricated himself from the embrace and helped Nolofinwë roll off. Their bodies came apart with a wet tear and they grimaced, instantly laughing at each other's expressions.

"So dirty, my brother!" Fëanáro teased appreciatively. "You may have to burn these sheets."

"Will you compensate me for the loss?" Nolofinwë lay back and smiled provocatively.

"Huh? I thought I already did," Fëanáro flicked his shoulder and then indulged in another languid kiss, before drawing away from temptation and sliding off the bed. “Ah, but to see you lying there so beautifully spent, I am willing to buy you an endless supply of sheets, my gorgeous brother,” he said over his shoulder, sauntering to the bath chamber. 

Nolofinwë smiled lazily and attempted to stretch, while watching his brother’s steady, graceful gait. Fëanáro disappeared into the bathroom and Nolofinwë let out a moan when his body reminded him how wonderfully used and spent he was. He felt light and incredibly heavy at the same time, sated and immensely relieved above all else. Fëanáro had surprised him yet again and given him not only pleasure, but his confidence as well. Beyond the mind-blowing sex, there had been friendship and trust between them and for that alone, Nolofinwë felt as though he might shed happy tears.

He heard water flowing and Fëanáro moving through the bathing chamber. For a moment, Nolofinwë debated whether he should drag himself out of bed and join his brother, but chances were that even if he couldn’t walk straight, he would seduce Fëanáro again and they would never leave Nolofinwë’s bedroom. Tempting as the thought was, they both had more important things to concern themselves about than their own pleasure.

Nolofinwë was still lying uncovered on the bed, seed drying on his belly and he did not even want to think where else, when Fëanáro stepped back into the room, his hair pulled back and a towel wrapped around his hips. Droplets of water clung to his skin and Nolofinwë’s vision narrowed to them, making him crave to lick each and every droplet off his brother’s skin. His expression must have given away the thought, because Fëanáro halted in mid-step.

“Mercy, brother…,” he gasped. “When I see you so debauched and you look at me like that… I really cannot control myself.”

“I know, I know… not now. But I can hardly control myself either.”

Shaking himself, Fëanáro returned to the bed and brought forth a wet towel that Nolofinwë had not even noticed before. Very gently and mindful that the wet cloth was also rather cold, Fëanáro cleaned the worst of their mess, kissing his brother tenderly.

“I’ve let water gather in your bath, but you’ll have to rise and set the temperature to what you think you can bear this morning. I would love nothing more than to help you ease yourself into the water and wash your hair while you soak. I would give you a long, thorough massage, until all the soreness is gone…”

“Fëanáro…”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he spoke on Nolofinwë’s lips. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But I truly have to leave now. It will be a miracle if someone does not catch me in the gardens.”

“Then you’d better get dressed. Although I am really very sorry to see you go,” Nolofinwë wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and held him for more than fluttering kisses. He let Fëanáro help him into a sitting position and winced, but the discomfort brought back such wonderful memories that he did not regret it for a moment.

“I will return in an hour. Two, at the most,” Fëanáro said. “Take all the time you need and let a servant know you are bathing. I would not do to have you falling asleep in the tub.”

“I should make you wait, but not that long, eh?” Nolofinwë grinned as Fëanáro rolled his eyes at him and hopped from one foot to the other as he tried to pull his breeches over skin that hadn’t completely dried yet.

“Even my patience has its limits…,” Fëanáro said, eliciting an amused groan from his brother. He finished pulling on his clothes and lacing them into some semblance of decency, but his hair was another matter. 

Nolofinwë pointed to one of his cabinets and Fëanáro obligingly came to him with a golden brush, sitting on the edge of the bed and letting Nolofinwë comb out the worst of the tangles.

“Oh… I meant to tell you something about Arafinwë’s sons before you distracted me so effectively,” Fëanáro said. “I ran into them on my way back from the… anger fueled trip I took after our fight. I gave them the news about Turko and Irissë.”

“You what?!” Nolofinwë’s hand jerked, drawing a hiss from his brother.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time, although in hindsight, I know it wasn’t!” Fëanáro replied defensively. “But you were right. Angaráto did not take the news well. They are coming home, Nolofinwë. They told me about their plans even before I mentioned anything about a wedding. They will return to Tirion soon, the whole family.”

“You could have said something about it while I went on and on about Arafinwë and his son!” Nolofinwë brushed the luxurious mane none-too-gently and then parted it for a single braid.

“I meant to! But we got caught up in other things and… that was that,” Fëanáro retorted, his shoulders rigid as his brother braided his hair far more energetically than necessary.

“That was that… Fëanáro, what if they come back and cause trouble? What if Angaráto tries to… I don’t even know what, but it could be bad.”

“It could be,” Fëanáro agreed, handing his brother a thin strip of leather to bind the braid. “We’ll just have to wait and see. I don’t like this anymore than you do, but at the end of the day, all you and I can do is be there for our children,” he said, turning around and Nolofinwë saw that playfulness had left his eyes completely. “The one thing we _can_ do is not cause trouble and stir panic ourselves. Let us talk to Irissë and Tyelkormo first, then we will watch over them and assure them that they can come to us if they need advice or comfort. Alright?”

“Alright. I just want them to be happy, Fëanáro,” Nolofinwë sighed, passing a hand over his face.

“As do I, brother. And I would see you happy as well,” Fëanáro smiled and warmth lit his eyes once more. He lowered himself for one more lingering kiss and then drew back with a moan of protest, hurrying to the window before he changed his mind.

“I will see you soon, my beautiful brother,” he smiled and blew Nolofinwë a kiss. “I miss you already!” he said, perched on the windowsill one moment and then gone the next.

Hand over his mouth and still feeling his brother’s kiss, Nolofinwë fell back on the pillows, laughing silently even as worry wormed its way back into the pit of his stomach. Then, he remembered the running water and sprang from the bed, limping to the bathroom and amused to the point of hysterics by what a sight he must have made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you cannot reconcile this _nice_ and communicative Fëanor with the wrathful one at the end of the previous chapter, well... he's _Fëanor_ and susceptible to worse mood-swings than a pregnant woman. He does love his brother, in his own way, but he is also a bastard and if Fingolfin were just a little more wary, he'd know better than to swoon under so much affection. Alas for Fingolfin, he has only ever wanted his brother to love him.


	9. INTERLUDE CONVERSATIONS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a collection of conversations between characters, snippets of pure dialogue where everything else is left entirely to the imagination.

INTERLUDE CONVERSATIONS

 

_Fëanáro and Maitimo, just outside the City walls_

 

"It's alright, Nelyo. You can relax now. Your uncle and I have kissed and made up."

"You... Literally?"

"Quite. It was so easy, too. I just went there, showed him kindness and said what he needed to hear. Before I knew it, Nolofinwë was all over me."

"Said what he needed to hear, did you?"

"What I thought I would want to hear if our positions were reversed. I did not lie, you know. And he was very remorseful for hitting me. He seemed to have lost a lot of sleep over it, too."

"He damned well should have, nobody hurts my father and does not wither with shame and guilt!"

"Indeed… I'm beginning to think it was not such a bad thing after all. He would have been less simple to tame if he hadn’t agonized about the horror of striking me. Still, it was too easy."

"Did it occur to you that perhaps Nolofinwë feared losing you… in addition to all the other consequences of your spat?"

" … no?"

"Of course not. It never occurred to you that you might lose him either."

"Nelyo…are you even listening to yourself?"

"Haha, true. But tell me more about the 'kissed and made up part'."

"You want the juicy details, do you... You'll just have to use your imagination, love. I haven't got much time to chat now. I promised that I would return through the front door later and make an official apology. But… long story short, I climbed through Nolofinwë's window and found him sick from too much wine. I took care of the poor soul, watched him squirm and fret and become all anxious in my presence, but I soothed him and laid his fears to rest. Then, next thing I knew, he threw himself at me and I must say, I do love the fire in him once it's properly stoked. We had the most thrilling make-up sex, he won't be sitting today and quite possibly tomorrow as well, then we slept and in the morning, we engaged in a very deep and meaningful conversation. And more sex, of course."

"Of course. But I hope you spoke of Turko and Irissë, not merely banged his brains out."

"I did. We spoke about quite a few things. And we agreed on many of them, you'd be surprised. But I didn’t have to say much, Nolofinwë sees how miserable his daughter is without his acceptance."

"So… Nolofinwë will give them his blessings and we can make the betrothal official?"

"I didn't say that. But he is certainly more amenable to the idea now than he was some days ago. We are to meet with father, apologize for acting like brats and then Turko and Irissë will join us to discuss their decision. However, there is another problem."

"Why am I not surprised…?"

"Because things in this family are never simple or easy? When he had our spat, as you called it, Nolofinwë ranted against Turko and how… _liberal_ he is with his affections. In other words, he knows that your brother has been a bit of a butterfly and that he does not favor women alone."

"Oh. But that goes for all of us. Even Nolofinwë himself."

"True, but as a father, it is natural for him to wonder whether his daughter will be enough for someone who has been frequently seeking attention from both sexes."

"Aaah, I've kept telling Turko to be discreet in his trysts…"

"It's not his fault that he is so irresistible. But I must say, I too am not entirely convinced that this marriage is such a good idea. Hush, hear me out before you bristle. You know I love Irissë and she is like a daughter to me. I have always supported their relationship and I know that if Turko says he is committed, then he is committed. But Nolofinwë _did_ raise a good point when he said he would rather not see his daughter having the same fate as his wife and… and your mother, Nelyo. It would be better for her if she were to wed someone who will not end up straying sooner or later, simply because he has needs a woman cannot fulfill. If I had a daughter, I would feel the exact same way."

"That is… yes. I can see how that would be a problem in the long run. But I am also sure that Irissë and Turko have talked about this many times already."

"Agreed. But that is not all there is to it. Nelyo, you are going to be very angry with me because…"

"Gods, atar… what did you do?"

"I've done something I do believe I shouldn't have, but I was angry and vindictive and perhaps it is not such an unwise idea after all."

"Atar…"

"No, listen. If Turko really means to go through with this, he must be sure and have no regrets and leave nothing unfinished behind, yes?"

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"Nelyo, don't shout at me, for Eru's sake! Someone might hear. Keep your bloody voice down and hear me out. All I did was tell Angaráto and Aikanáro about your brother's plans do get married."

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

"NELYO!"

"That's why you went to Alqualondë?!"

"No. Yes. No! I went to cool off. I happened to run into Arafinwë's brood on my way back."

"You went to have a walk on the beach, did you… Oh, father. I should have known better than to let you go alone."

"Oh? And what would you have done in my stead? It's not a secret, the news will come out before long. It's best for Arafinwë and his family to know from us than from the gossip mill."

"If that was all there is to it, I would agree, but it's not and you knew it and I'm sure you spoke with Angaráto on purpose. What did you tell him? Speak, atar, tell me everything!"

"Alright, alright… I told him and his brother that Turko means to wed Irissë but her father does not agree and there may be trouble because of that."

"How did Angaráto react?"

"He blanched and leaned on his brother for support and didn't seem to believe the news. I think, in his head and his self-imposed exile, your cousin believed that Irissë is just a stage in Turko's life. That they would have their fun and their relationship would run its full course and then Turko would revert to what he truly is."

"Which is what? A shameless philanderer?"

"No. Your cousin's beloved, I think. Angaráto hasn't gotten over their estrangement and small wonder that. I wouldn’t be able to stop loving Turkafinwë if I were him." 

"Oh, Eru...! I was afraid you’d say this."

"It's common knowledge, though. Even Nolofinwë knows about this and why else would your cousins insist on living in Alqualondë? They've been in your company so often, but after Turko decided to devote himself to Irissë, Angaráto, Aikanáro and Artaher haven't set foot in our house anymore. It's been years now, but when I saw your cousin's reaction at the news, I understood that for him, it is not over."

"And what did you say to him?"

"That… I told him to fight for your brother, Nelyo. I told him that if he feels there is even the smallest chance left, he should pursue it. I don't want Turko to regret anything. Angaráto did not say a word, but they will be coming home soon, they had already decided on it before I mentioned anything about the betrothal."

"Father… I can't believe this! How could you? Do you not know that this will only make Turko miserable and complicate his life?"

"You can't know that. It might be for the greater good, in the end."

"The greater good?! Tell me, did you really think of the greater good when you encouraged my cousin to meddle in Turko's betrothal? Or was it your own anger that drove you to seek vengeance against your brother? I know you, atar… I know how you think. You wanted to strike back at Nolofinwë for hurting you, but not directly… No, you had to be duplicitous and insidious and hurt him by making his daughter suffer. Is that not worse than anything you might do to your brother yourself? I dare you to deny this!"

"And I strongly advise you to hold your tongue."

"No! I will not. I cannot!"

"Nelyo, breathe, for Eru's sake, you look as red as your hair. I am not trying to strike Nolofinwë insidiously, but thank you for your trust and appreciation of me. I might have hated him when he angered me, but that is behind us now and even if you do not believe that, surely you must know that I would never use Turko for such purposes."

"Would you not?"

"You wound me. Be silent! And leave me. I would hear no more of this."

"Father…"

"No! I did what I thought was best. Turko should know that he still has a choice and I care not which cousin he picks in the end or if it's neither of them. He would have them _both_ if it were up to me."

"That is… madness."

"Why? My sons deserve _everything_!"

"If you tell Turko that, it's on your head. You won't listen to me, I can see that. But if it all goes to hell and my brother is miserable, it's on _you_ , father."

"So be it. Now, go back home and fetch Turko. And tell him to be ready for an interrogation. Father and Nolofinwë will question even the way he breathes."

"And you?"

"I will support him. Gods, Nelyo, be gone from my sight! And thank you for spoiling a perfectly good morning for me."

"…"

"Don’t say you're sorry. Just leave."

 

_Turkafinwë and Irissë, walking hand in hand in the gardens, after their meeting with their fathers and grandfather_

 

"That went… a lot better than I expected. I am almost tempted to say that we’ve been wringing our hands in despair for naught. Almost."

"Almost, Turko? What worries you still? We have your father's support which I have never doubted. My own father is has been very calm and accepting although I thought he would need far more convincing and grandfather… You know he was my greatest fear. I thought that surely he would frown upon us because of how close in kinship we are and how this reflects on the Royal House."

"Grandfather knows better. He just wants us to be happy."

"I know. But don’t tell me you were not afraid to face him with the proposal."

"I… alright. I was. But only a little. I knew that grandfather would see how much we love each other and he would give us his blessing."

"So… why are you still concerned?"

"Well… ah, my love. It must have been less difficult for you to sit there primly and hold my hand, you were not the one who had to answer for bedding half of Valinor and having to swear you won't do it anymore."

"Turko! You did _not_ bed half of Valinor! Did you…?"

" Irissë…"

"I know, I know… I'm sorry. And yes, that was quite embarrassing."

"It might have been worse if you were not there. Thank you for standing by me and for saying what you said."

"I love you. And that's what a wife does, is it not? Stands by her husband?"

"Ah."

"…"

" Irissë…"

"It's alright. If you're worried about how I feel, it's actually flattering to know that someone so desirable and intensely courted is _mine_."

"But people should say that about _you_ , not me!"

"Perhaps they do. Perhaps we haven't been listening to the right people."

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Would you be jealous?"

"I would be _proud_."

"Of course. But seriously, now. Like you said, the past is the past. We are going to build a future together and that is all I want to think about. That and… whether it would be too much of an outrage if you came to my bedchamber tonight. I mean… it's not like they are going to demand that we stop being intimate now that we are betrothed."

"What? No. If they do, I will wed you tomorrow. Or now. Right now."

"Hahaha…"

"I mean it. It's going to be the shortest betrothal in recorded history if anyone means to change the way we have been with one another thus far."

"I wholeheartedly agree. Which leaves us to decide whether you will come into my room by the door or the window. Are you feeling adventurous?"

"The door would be adventurous. I'll pick the window, for now. But only because whoever your gardener and your architect are, they built your home to be sneaked into. I've climbed up many walls, but none as easy to scale as yours."

"That's… I never noticed that, but you're right. And your side of the family have been making such good use of our walls over the years… In fact, I think we should have signs mounted. 'Guest Entrance' for the doors and 'Fëanorian Entrance' for the windows."

"I _dare_ you to do that."

"Turko…"

"Seriously. I dare you. In fact, I'll ask Kurvo to make the signs. I wonder how long it would take your mother or your father to notice and throw a fit."

"Mean! But alright. I'll do it. Kurvo will hate me, we have many doors and windows."

"Oh, but I think that the Fëanorian entrances are strategically placed. Your bedroom windows, those of your brothers and your father's too."

"My father's?!"

"Oh, yes."

"Which one of you is sneaking into my father's bedroom?"

"Hmm. I wonder… You have _one_ guess."

"No… Can't be… Is it?! Turko, don't toy with me, it's not funny. Tell me!"

"Oh, come on, you know it too, you just refuse to admit it and stubbornly look the other way."

"But…"

"You mean you did not see _my_ father creeping through the garden just now and slipping into _your_ father's room?"

"Uh. I did not. You're joking, right?"

"No. If you want, we can move closer. Maybe we can catch what they are saying, but I do believe they've closed the window precisely against that."

"I don't believe it…"

"Why not? It makes sense. A few weeks ago, they were civil to each other and little else. Now… it's fairly obvious that things have changed dramatically and my brothers tell me that father spends fewer nights at home than I do."

"But… with my father… I don't…"

"At first, I didn't want to believe it either, but it makes so much sense. We are all drawn to _you_. You are _all_ drawn to us. Why should our fathers not feel the same? We stem from them, do we not?"

"I just… never thought that my father would want yours that way. Or the other way around! For all intents and purposes, your father has always been faithful to your mother."

"For all intents and purposes, yes. That's what they want us to believe. They probably think we are still children who need to be sheltered and not disillusioned. Of course, I would rather not think about it if I don’t have to, but I'm sure our fathers bed one another with the voraciousness of people who denied themselves for far too long."

"Ugh."

"I'm sorry. Well, no, I'm not. I can pretend I know nothing if they are more comfortable that way, but I know my father. Did you not see? He was _glowing_ today, even if he was supposed to be meek and humble and apologetic before grandfather. And Nolofinwë…did you see how much he squirmed in his seat? It might have passed for embarrassment but I swear I saw him exchanging meaningful looks with atar and smirking. His _eyes_ were smirking, anyway."

"Oh, gods… where was I all this time?"

"I don’t know? In sweet oblivion? And now I wonder if perhaps I shouldn’t have burst your bubble so unceremoniously."

"Turko, no! You're right… and I want to know. Come on. Up the ivy you go, my Fëanorian entrance is open."

"That… can be easily misinterpreted."

"You! Yes, yes it can. But I am barring and locking _that_ particular Fëanorian entrance until you tell me everything you know about our very naughty fathers."

"That… can also be very easily misinterpreted."

"Turkafinwë Tyelkormo…"

"Oooh, the full name! I am trembling in my boots. Tell me, is this how it’s going to be when we're married?"

"Up. The. Wall. Now!"

"Haha, you'll certainly drive me up the walls if I don't tell you what you want to know, right?"

"In a word, _yes_."

"Alright. But you must pretend you know nothing. Let them have their fun. It's good for both of them. And I'm sure that it runs deeper than that, in which case… if they can be happy for us, we should be happy for them too."

"Exactly that. I want to know what's going on because this affects us as well. As long as they are on good terms, it means no trouble for us. If they quarrel, we’ve got to be on our toes, no?"

"My Irrisë, so practical. But I could not agree more. So… inside you go. Leave all Fëanorian entrances open, I mean to come in very soon. Ow!"

"Turko…"

"OW! They should have called _you_ Arakáno! Quit molesting me, woman!"

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind."

"No! I take it back."

"Hahaha. Yes, yes, I know you do. Now be gone. It'll take you longer to reach my rooms than it will take me to do so."

 

_Angaráto and Aikanáro in their Alqualondë quarters, preparing their return to Tirion._

 

"Stop that. Sit down and have a drink. Your hands are shaking."

"I'll take more than a drink to stop them from shaking. And I won't get drunk again, brother. I need a clear head. I must think!"

"Sit down all the same. I know you must think, but please, do so carefully. What you mean to do is… I don't think it'll get you anything else but heartbreak."

"And what… have I not known heartbreak?! Do I not waste away here and let the sea drown my cries while that… that _woman_ has everything that should be mine? How could it possibly be worse than this?"

"It could… Turko might reject you again. Far more brutally this time. I don't want to see you going through such anguish."

"But if I do nothing, it'll be anguish _forever_ should they wed. And I know Turko, he will be miserable in this marriage. He must have lost his mind. She must have bewitched him! There is something evil at work here."

"Brother. Sit down! Drink this right now or pry your mouth open and pour it down your throat."

"Fine! Ugh, what is this foul concoction?"

"I do not know. Artanis gave it to me. It's supposed to calm you down."

"Don't tell me you are trying to drug me and put me to sleep."

"You need to rest, Angaráto. You need to calm yourself and come to your senses. Turning yourself into a wraith will not serve you in any way. And it worries us sick."

"Ah… I'm sorry. I am so sorry that you have to witness this. I'm sorry for what I've become. But no more, brother. No more. I refuse to sit here idly, out of sight and out of mind. You heard uncle Fëanáro. He told me to fight. If Turko's own father does not believe that his son should wed that woman, then how can I come to my senses, like you said? Unless you mean I should shake off this self-imposed exile and fight for what is mine. In that case, I couldn't agree more. I've been a fool to step out of the way so obligingly."

"Brother… brother. I don't understand why our uncle would tell you such things, but…"

"I know why! Because he knows his son as well and he would rather spare him the unhappiness that awaits him if he goes through with this madness. Uncle Fëanáro knows I love Turko still and I could never cease loving him, no matter where I am or who Turko is with. I believe he came to seek us and he hopes that I will talk Turko out of ruining his own life."

"For your sake, brother, I hope that is true and not just your own imagination."

"It isn't, Aikanáro! Come on, you know them too. Both of them. You know that neither Turkafinwë nor Curufinwë could ever be happy or satisfied with the pliant softness of women. They need hard bodies and iron will to challenge them and to match them. The need the savageness of coupling that only _we_ can give them. Hells, Aikanáro…Turko needs me to throw him down and push myself into him so hard and so deep that he screams when he breaks on my cock. You know this!"

"That… that may be so, brother. But there is something you and I can't give them, no matter how much we love them and to what lengths we would go to please them. We can't give them children, Angaráto. Did it occur to you that this is why they have both turned from us and into the arms of women?"

"Of course I have thought about it. You're right. But I can't… I just can't! I cannot accept this like you have. I cannot endure the same way you have endured. I won't let Turko be stolen from me so irreversibly. I don't have the power of self sacrifice you do, brother. I cannot take this and do nothing, with the only consolation that one day, the one I love with all my heart will be happy to hold his son or his daughter in his arms. I can't do that. I don't understand how you ever could… unless you don't love Kurvo as much as I love his brother."

"You know that is not true."

"I do. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to open your wounds as well."

"They are always open, you know? But I do find some comfort in knowing that he is happy. So will you, in time."

"No! I told you, I won't stand for this. I have to do something. For all I know, Turko might believe I have forgotten him. I've been such a fool to simply get out of the way. He must think that I don't love him anymore or that I hate him or that I've never loved him to begin with. NO! I must see him and speak to him and I'll _show_ him where his heart truly lies!"

"How?"

"I don't know, yet. But I will think of a way. And when we are face to face, he'll know. He'll feel our connection. He will come to me, I know it."

"Oh, Angaráto… how I hope you are right, for your sake. It kills me to see you so miserable, but it's been worse to watch you listless and a shadow of your former self. But, brother… for the sake of our family and the peace within it, please consider what you mean to do carefully. If you win Turko back for yourself, he will have to abandon his marriage plans and that will break Irissë's heart. There will be strife between her family and Turko's. Hells, there will be strife between father and Uncle Nolofinwë… again. If you throw yourself into this recklessly, the damage could be greater than you can imagine. Please think of that as well?"

"I… I am thinking. I know what you mean. But surely, we can't all be forced to sacrifice our happiness on the altar of this fragile peace. Surely we are not expected to grow complacent within the bonds of truce and wed only to breed, without any consideration to what our hearts desire…"

"That is a very dramatic way of seeing it and I wish I could tell you that you are exaggerating, but you’re not."

"No, I am not. And I'll be damned if I let Turko go to waste only because he has pressed himself into a corner and he fears the balance in the family will be broken if he changes his mind. At the very least, he deserves to know how much I love him and that he has a choice. He doesn't have to settle for less when he can have it all with me."

"Brother… I don't mean to hurt you, but… what if Turkafinwë has moved on? What if he _does_ love our cousin more than you? What if you were a passing fancy for him and she is his true mate?"

"No!"

"I'm sorry, I don’t want to be cruel…"

"No! You don't understand. I've never told you, I couldn't, it hurt too much to remember but… Brother, Turko cried when he told me that I should stop going to him. He held me and I could feel how his heart ached. In the end, I promised him whatever he wanted me to promise him because it hurt him too much if I didn't. He begged me not to hate him… Brother, I don't know how it was with you and Curufinwë, but for me, it's been a terrible riddle. I know it is not over between Turko and I. He needs me now to save him from making a terrible mistake. I'll never forgive myself if I don't try."

"You are right about that, at least. You _will never_ forgive yourself if you don't try."

"Like you cannot forgive yourself?"

"I should have fought more for my love, yes. But what's done is done. Now we must think of… Angaráto, are you unwell?"

"It's the drink. I think it's taking effect. I feel lightheaded and sleepy…"

"Come, lie down. No, just relax. I'll take your shoes off. Sleep, if you can, you need a few moments of peace."

"You…You should go. Keep packing our belongings. The sooner we are finished with that, the sooner we can leave. In fact, we must ask atar to send us ahead and prepare the house. Now, before he learns anything about what is really afoot in Tirion."

"We'll do that. We'll ask him when you wake. But until then, I am not going anywhere. I'll be right here, watching over you, brother. Sleep now, and may your dreams give you some peace, at least."

 

_Turkafinwë / Curufinwë, in their father's forge, working on the 'Fëanorian Entrance' signs_

 

"Atar is going to crack a rib laughing at these…"

"Oh, yes. Hopefully, Nolofinwë will share the amusement too."

"Heh. Maybe we should pin one on his backside as well? It would be very accurate."

"Now, now, Kurvo, don't be mean. And remember, we know nothing. We are father's perfectly innocent little babies. Besides, that is my future father-in-law you're talking about."

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

"Why not?"

"I can't believe you actually mean to go through with this thing."

"This _thing_? But Kurvo, I thought you were happy for me. I thought you understood that…"

"I understand and I am happy for you, gods damnit!"

"So much enthusiasm…"

"I'm sorry. I just can't see you married."

"Really? Why is that?"

"You like cock too much."

"What? OW!"

"Haha… careful with the hammer. Aaaargh, hand it over and go put some salve on your fingers. Or… just stick them in you mouth. You big baby."

"Fuck, this hurts! I'm sorry… you were saying? I like what too much?"

"Pfft, I know you like it when I talk dirty, but I thought we had moved on from that, Turko. Although that doesn’t change the fact that you like cock too much."

"You bastard."

"But it's true…"

"Sadly, it is."

"Sadly?! To think that I would live the day when my gorgeous Vala of a brother would shed his sensuality and fetter himself. For shame!"

"Oh. Wow. That's… I wasn't expecting that. For shame?"

"It's just an expression. But I really do not want to imagine you tied to anyone's skirts, even if Irissë is a formidable woman. Or perhaps because of that. She's so formidable she'll have you pussy-whipped before you know it. Unless it's happened already. Oh, dear…"

"Wha…?"

"You should see the look on your face right now. I love you dearly, but you've never resembled a drooling idiot more in your life."

"Thank you. So kind, my little brother. So loving and appreciative. You don’t know where they keep the lye in our house, do you?"

"You wish!"

"And if I ask you kindly to stop using such filthy language?" 

"I will happily ignore you because it seems to be working. I am getting to you like this."

"Do you want me to be angry?"

"I can handle that. It's _married_ that I can't really think of you as."

"Tell me, brother dearest... Are you… what was it you called it? _Pussy-whipped_ in your marriage?"

"No. But then, my wife is not of the line of Finwë."

"Even so, she is no meek, pliant flower."

"Indeed not."

"Are you unhappy with her?"

"No, of course not. Why?"

"Because… if I recall correctly, not so long ago, you were fairly fond of something big and hard being rammed up your ass. Did that stop you from binding yourself to a woman?"

"No…? But I fail to see how that is relevant."

"Do you? My clever little brother, don’t you dare play dumb with me. Do you or do you not still desire things your wife cannot give you? If I tore your clothes off and took you over that work table right now, would you struggle against it?"

"Turko…"

"Tell me!"

"Yes! No! Hells, you know I would take you and I'd beg you to never bloody stop. There! Now, your point is…?"

"My point is... I was hoping you'd say that you would struggle. And that being wed would have weaned you of such desires."

"I am married, Turko, not _dead_. I don't think it's in our nature to deny ourselves."

"And yet, you do. You deny yourself and you're faithful to your wife."

"Now, wait a minute. Don't twist this into something it is not."

"Do you ever regret it?"

"What? Do I regret _what_?"

"Binding yourself to a woman. Giving up your freedom and… what you had before that."

"Yes."

"Oh, Kurvo…"

"But don't you dare pity me. I would not have done it unless I was sure I could live with the regrets. I mean to give father grandchildren. That is the path I have chosen for myself. Do I ever look back? Of course I do! You want to know if I miss Aikanáro and wish I had chosen differently? It'd be a lie to claim I do not. Why do you think I am so adamant that you shouldn't rush into marriage with Irissë?"

"I'm so sorry…"

"Uff, back off! I don’t need to be cuddled and pitied, you hear me?"

"Fine, fine!"

"What about you? Since you were so kind as to try and distract me from what we're really discussing here, tell me… Do you miss your precious Angamaitë? Do you ever wish you hadn’t sent him away?"

"Oh, Eru… Curufinwë, please!"

"I see that the mere mention of his name brings pain in your eyes. That answers my question. You always loved him much more than I loved his brother and that is already too much."

"Why do you bring this up now?"

"You started it."

"But it hurts, alright? It still hurts."

"That's because you still care about him. And you're a fool if you think Irissë will ever make it go away. Nevermind your physical need for male lovers. This is much deeper and far more dangerous."

"I know."

"And what do you mean to do?"

"I mean to wed Irissë and sire her children."

"Fine, then. So be it."

"Kurvo… I love her. More than I love _him_."

"Good."

"I will be happy. I already am!"

"And I am happy for you."

"They why do you look like you are about to burst into tears?"

"Because, Turko… Because I hear you, but it's my own voice you're speaking with. Those are _my own_ words. I said them first and Eru, they are _hollow_! Don't do this to yourself."

 

_Findekáno / Maitimo riding outside the City the day after Maitimo's disagreement with his father at the gates._

 

"Would it help you if I sang? If I brushed and re-braided your hair? If I threw myself off a cliff or made out with my horse?"

"Mmm."

"Maitimo, you're not listening to a word I'm saying."

"Sorry. Did you want something?"

"Gods… yes! I want you to stop being so forlorn."

"I cannot. Perhaps we should go back. Forgive me. I am wretched company."

"No. My love, listen… you should not make more of this than it is. I saw your father. He is happy. I'm sure he has put your argument behind him."

"Are you? Do you know my father so little?"

"Ah. No. You're right. He hides behind my father and punishes you by not giving you a chance to apologize. But I wonder what he hopes to achieve by not speaking to you?"

"He wants me to know how much I hurt him. It's his way of dealing with such things. The deeper the injury, the more he will pretend nothing happened and he will avoid speaking of it at all costs. And I _did_ say things I should have never even thought, much less spewed at my own father. I was wrong to accuse him and he is right to hate me for it right now."

"He doesn't hate you…"

"Perhaps not. Perhaps he thinks I despise him and that is even worse!"

"Maitimo, how could he ever think that of you, who love him more than anyone else in this world?"

"I have a funny way of showing it. Small wonder he seeks consolation and refuge with your father."

"But, beloved… is that not what we wanted to begin with? Did we not wish for them to reach out to one another and grow close enough to find comfort in that?"

"We did. But that doesn't mean I should actively push my father away."

"Do you want me to talk to him? Do you think he'll listen?"

"No. And no. I know how this goes. We've done it before. I hurt him and he pulls me into a terrible guilt trip. I struggle to make it up to him and to earn his forgiveness and eventually he relents. It's always been like this."

"That… my love, I am sorry, but that does not sound like a father's behavior to me."

"It isn't. But then, he is not merely my father. Oh, I'm sorry, Káno. Can we speak of something else? I know it's unpleasant for you to hear me raving on about this."

"It is not pleasant, but I am here for you, Maitimo. Speak of whatever you need to speak of."

"How about my brother and your sister? That was such an immense relief."

"Indeed. I don't think anyone expected it to go so smoothly, not even the happy couple themselves. But it just goes to show how good it is when our fathers are on the same page. I wish they would keep doing whatever it is that they're doing now. And I don’t mean just the work-out, they'll soon begin to chafe and blister from that…"

"Hahaha. Not a lovely mental picture, that."

"I know! But beyond the bedsport, they seemed to have found common ground that they did not have before. Father appeared _happy_ to me. Radiant even. And even Fëanáro seemed to be absorbed by what they are sharing at the moment. I say you worry too much about him being hurt and seeking to make you feel guilty. Wait another day and then apologize. You might find that he has been too distracted to brood."

"You underestimate my father's brooding abilities."

"That is why I am the eternal optimist between us."

"And I thank you for it. You light my way so many times."

"Ah, Maitimo… Can you dismount for a moment? I just want to hold you."

"Behind that copse of trees. You can do more than hold me. I _need_ you to do more than just that."

 

_Findekáno and Nolofinwë talking after the Fëanorians have (temporarily) returned home to regroup and discuss plans for the betrothal feast_

 

"Did you speak to Fëanáro before he left? About his stubbornness against his own son, I mean."

"I have."

"And?"

"And… nothing. He said they would sort out their differences. I took that as the cue it was not to meddle any further."

"But…"

"Listen. I know you love your cousin, but when it comes to his father, I think it's best for neither of us to meddle too much. We'd be completely out of our depth."

"But atar… I can't not meddle. I am already too close to the fire."

"As am I. Closer than you would think. And still, if I were quarrelling with you, I would want no outside intervention. Leave them to their own devices for a while."

"You say that so easily, even knowing what they are to each other?"

"What are you afraid of, that Maitimo will throw himself into his father's arms and service him for his forgiveness?"

"Atar, lower your voice, for Eru's sake, someone might overhear! You know how our house servants are."

"Our house servants could write volumes about the things they've seen and heard if that is what they wished. But the fact remains…do you trust your lover so little that by leaving him unsupervised with his father and with tension running high between them, you fear he will betray you and fall back on what he knows best?"

"You are not worried about this?"

"No. I trust Fëanáro."

"What? Since when?"

"Since there is no other way but to trust them both. I talked to your uncle, these days, you know? And he talked back, would you believe it? I think I have a better understanding of him now than ever before. And my mind is far more at ease than it used to be."

"I could see that myself. You've been much happier and more confident around him than ever."

"Especially compared to the nervous wreck I was before?"

"Especially. I am happy for you, atar. But be careful."

"Always. Findekáno… I want you to do something for me. You and I… because of our choice of lovers… we've crossed a few boundaries ourselves. Which is why I feel at liberty to ask you this. Can you tell me more about what is happening between your siblings and your cousins? I was shocked to hear just how much your sister loves Tyelkormo and taken aback by how much I have been missing out on. But you're much closer to all of them. If it would not be a terrible breach of anyone's trust, could you tell me more?"

"I… I think I could. What do you want to know?"

"Anything you believe I should know. And trust me, I will not react poorly no matter what you tell me. I just want to be prepared and to know how to encourage your siblings to speak to me. And that includes you. I've let you confide in your uncle and your cousin far too long. We too can be an unbreakable unit, my son."

 

_Turkafinwë / Fëanáro immediately after Turko flees from the forge, too pained by his exchange with his brother to continue it ___

__

__"Turko, there you are… What is the matter?"_ _

__"Nothing. Nothing, atar."_ _

__"Hush! Let me look at you. Have you been crying?"_ _

__"No. Not yet."_ _

__"What happened? What's wrong?"_ _

__"Nothing. _Everything_. Curufinwë."_ _

__"What? You were running from the forge, weren't you? Did something happen to your brother? Is he injured? Tell me!"_ _

__"No, no… it's nothing like that. He is perfectly alright and making something silly. It's a surprise. You'll laugh."_ _

__"But you're not laughing. Did you two have a fight? It wouldn't be the first time one of you or both of you ended in tears after it…"_ _

__"We did not have a fight. Not exactly. He just…"_ _

__"Come here."_ _

__"Atar…"_ _

__"It's alright. Talk to me. Or… don't talk to me. We can just stay like this for a while."_ _

__"Thank you."_ _

__"Shh… you know I am here for you. But what is this? You worry me."_ _

__"I'm sorry. I'll can't even explain it. I… it's complicated."_ _

__"It' always seems to be this way with us. Would it help if I asked you some questions instead?"_ _

__"I don't know. Yes."_ _

__"You can trust me with anything, Turko. I won't be mad at you no matter what you say. I love you and in my eyes, you can do no wrong, my son. So… whatever burdens you, let me share the load."_ _

__"Atar… "_ _

__"Tell me, is there a wound on your soul that Kurvo accidentally or willingly opened?"_ _

__"Yes. Willingly."_ _

__"I thought as much. But you know that whatever your brother does, he does it because he loves you."_ _

__"Yes."_ _

__"You will forgive him?"_ _

__"I am not angry with him."_ _

__"Yourself, then?"_ _

__"Yes."_ _

__"And why is that? Have you done something wrong?"_ _

__"No."_ _

__"Do you fear that you _may_ do something wrong?"_ _

__"Yes."_ _

__"Would anything help you be free of these doubts?"_ _

__"I don't know. Do you? Atar, you speak as though you already know what is on my mind."_ _

__"Perhaps I do. I can guess well enough."_ _

__"Then…?"_ _

__"I cannot tell you what to do. Only you know your heart well enough."_ _

__"And if I do not? If it betrays me?"_ _

__"Your heart can never betray you. Only the other way around. You may betray your own heart and is that what worries you so? That you are betraying your own heart? Or that you have done so already?"_ _

__"I don’t know!"_ _

__"Perhaps there is a way for you to find out."_ _

__"What do you mean?"_ _

__"Turko, I know what you did when your relationship with Irissë turned to love. You sacrificed a part of yourself to give her the love and the respect she deserves and I admired your strength, your show of character back then. But it hurt you deeply and it hurts you still."_ _

__"It does."_ _

__"There is still so much guilt. So much regret… Unanswered questions and now, doubt as well. Am I right?"_ _

__"Too right… But what can I do?"_ _

__"You should be honest with yourself, for one thing. If you still have feelings for your cousin and there are unresolved matters between the two of you, look into that first, before you make any life-changing decision. Do you still have feelings for Angaráto?"_ _

__"I don't know, atar. I have driven him from my side and from my mind, but I am not certain that I have banished him from my heart as well. I have not faced him since, I have never spoken to him at any of the functions our whole family has participated in. He has not approached me either and why would he? I broke his heart, atar. Knowingly and willingly. If anything, he must hate me now."_ _

__"No."_ _

__"No? How could you possibly know that?"_ _

__"Nobody could ever hate you, Turko."_ _

__"I wouldn’t be so sure. If our positions were reversed, I would…"_ _

__"You would have never permitted such a thing to happen and for anyone to cast you aside. But Angaráto is much younger than you. He must have thought that… Oh, what am I saying? I don’t know what he must have thought, save that it is madness to leave you willingly. But… I saw him the other day. Rage against Nolofinwë drove to me to ride for the sea and I passed through Alqualondë on my way back. I met both your cousins there and I told them about your betrothal."_ _

__"Father, no…"_ _

__"They would learn of it sooner or later. I wanted to gauge Angaráto's reaction myself. He was stricken. I did not need more to understand that he still loves you."_ _

__"Oh, gods!"_ _

__"Maybe I should not have meddled, Turko. But now I know that I was not mistaken to do so. You must see him and speak with him. Angaráto will come for you."_ _

__"What? When?"_ _

__"Shh, don't panic. I don't know when, but he will come. And when he does, you must face him. You owe it to yourself."_ _

__"I owe it to him as well."_ _

__"Exactly."_ _

__"But if… If it is as you say and he does not curse my name… What do I do then?"_ _

__"I cannot tell you that. But if it is not finished between you, it will only fester and poison your happiness."_ _

__"I must finish it, then."_ _

__"If that is what your heart tells you. _Your heart_ , Turko, not your head or your sense of honor and responsibility. You must do what you need, what makes _you_ happy. Whatever that is, my son, you have my unwavering support."_ _

__"Even if… "_ _

__"Even if. Always. No matter what."_ _

__"But… our families. If I don't… there will be strife."_ _

__"There is _always_ strife. Let me deal with Nolofinwë and Arafinwë. The only thing that matters to me is your happiness. I don't want to see pain and doubt and loss in your eyes, beloved."_ _

__"Ah, but all my choices are riddled with that, atar."_ _


	10. CLAIMING WHAT IS MINE

_It should have been easier_ , Tyelkormo thought. Eating, drinking, speaking… _breathing._ Food should not have tasted like ashes in his mouth and the wine he poured into himself senselessly should not have slid down his throat like fresh spilled blood. Laughter should not have broken past his lips like the crack of a whip, fast, harsh, empty. Nor should the smile on his face have felt as though his skin had been cut and stitched together in a leering grimace. But it did. 

He sat at the head of the table, made into the honored host by Maitimo's poorest idea to date. By his side, Curufinwë sported his own painted-on smile and he would have been the picture of ease if Tyelkormo couldn't see every little thread that pulled his muscles by sheer force of his brother's will. There too was silent drama, carefully tucked behind eyes the color of polished steel and if sometimes pain poured darkness into them, one could easily mistake it for the effect of wine. After all, the finest vintages flowed freely and for some reason, their father seemed determined to see their stores depleted before they left the table. 

Carnistir sat on his other side, flushed, deeply disturbed, his mind vulnerable and open to images and emotions that made him desperate for a reprieve. Tyelkormo wished he could have spared his brother, but short of sending him from the house, he could do little else but touch Carnistir's hand in a feeble attempt at comfort… and keep his goblet permanently full, of course. But in true Fëanorian fashion, Carnistir endured the flaying of his nerves and would not be removed from his brothers' side even by force. 

For that, at least, Tyelkormo could be grateful. They were all there for him, although some were less troubled than others. Beneath the loud conversations and the raucous laughter, he felt the undercurrent of worry, the gentle waves of sympathy breaking against him before they could bring him any soothing and many pairs of eyes sought to burn through the mask of happiness welded over his true face. His father saw… of course, he knew, he understood and tried to pass strength onto Tyelkormo, but anger glowed red and dangerous at the core of the warmth pouring from him.

To an outsider's eye, they entertained guests that were neither unwelcome nor inopportune. On the contrary, Aikanáro and Angaráto were more than welcome, long due, in fact, and sorely missed. They had taken their old places at the table and fallen into the familiar banter almost as though time had folded upon itself and dragged them back to a different time. Nothing gave away the fact that they too played along with the pantomime of reunited kinsmen and friends, but the cheerfulness glazed over their features was brittle and needed so very little to break.

 _Or maybe I am overreacting. Maybe I am reading too much into things and guilt distorts what I see far worse than wine,_ Tyelkormo mused bitterly. _Maybe I am pained and believe that everyone suffers with me._

Angaráto and Aikanáro had sent word from Tirion that they would be visiting and arrived on the heels of their messenger, giving Tyelkormo barely a moment to sort himself out. Or rather, to panic and seriously consider running away, but his father had held him and firmly forbidden three things: panic, cowardice and denial. And so, Tyelkormo had put on fine clothes, accepted steadier hands to braid his hair and prayed for strength.

Still, his vision swam and the door he held onto couldn’t have been better placed when his cousins stood on the doorstep and Tyelkormo tried to process just how affected he was by the mere sight of them. But a son of Fëanáro did not blush, he did not stammer or avert his eyes. He stood tall and smiled, motioning their guests inside with a wide sweep of his arm, looking into eyes of a lighter blue than his, equally guarded and shuttered against the storm brewing behind them.

Angaráto and Aikanáro had resumed their places at the table and fallen back into the old pattern of conversation with their kinsmen in a frightfully easy manner. As wine flowed and frivolous news from Tirion and Alqualondë passed back and forth amid laughter, Tyelkormo looked at the two and the stab of how much he had missed them tore him deeply. How could he had forced them away when clearly, they belonged among the Fëanorians?

Not a word was spoken about the real reason why Arafinwë’s sons had precipitated their return from their mother’s home, however. And indeed, the two could have easily feigned they knew nothing about Tyelkormo’s nuptial plans. No official announcement had been made and even for a place as rife with gossip as Tirion, only immediate family was in possession of such knowledge. Finwë planned a feast to announce the happy event and waited for the whole family to gather. But everyone at the table knew and skillfully avoided broaching the subject as even the most clueless and carefree of Tyelkormo’s brothers knew to hold their tongues. It was Tyelkormo’s task and his alone to speak with his cousins and he chose to do so privately, because even in a family where secrets were impossible to keep, some things were better done without so many witnesses.

And so, they talked of everything and nothing at all, eating and drinking until even Tyelkormo – who prided himself with a remarkable alcohol tolerance – began to feel the edges of his pain dull and it grew easier to meet Angaráto’s eyes without flinching or squeezing the (thankfully very well made) goblet until his knuckles turned white. It became bearable to search that beautiful face and note almost distantly how the bow of Angaráto’s wine-stained lips curved into the breathtaking smile Tyelkormo had painstakingly tried to erase from his memory. He could stand to look at the firm jaw and the high cheeks dusted with a most becoming blush and endured the need to plunge his hands into the mass of unruly golden hair that escaped braids almost as badly as Aikanáro’s did. 

Tyelkormo had been prepared to react strongly to his cousin, but not to physically ache with longing and guilt at the mere sight of him. And certainly not to hide behind his father when – late into the evening – they began to amble toward their rooms. He was too far into his cups to even put up a semblance of self-control and would crumble into a miserable heap should Angaráto seek him for a private word. But Fëanáro knew it and shielded Tyelkormo from any such attempts, ushering him to his room and locking the door behind them.

Words between them were unnecessary, his father knew and understood him and had promised unwavering support for which Tyelkormo was immensely grateful. He let himself be helped out of his clothes and sat down for his hair to be brushed smooth, going back to his childhood years when one of his parents always lovingly prepared him for sleep and tucked him in bed with a good-night kiss. So too did Fëanáro caress his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on Tyelkormo’s lips, but when he turned to leave, Tyelkormo reached out for him and pulled him back.

He did not want to be alone. He could not bear to be alone and even if oblivion tested the edges of his wine-soaked mind, he would find no rest, not truly and not with Angaráto just two rooms away. Fëanáro said nothing, but kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his shirt, pulling his own braids free as Tyelkormo made room for him on the bed. 

Peace had always come so easy in the alcove of his father’s arms and Tyelkormo had sought it many times as a child. Fëanáro was safety and reassurance, warm and solid at his back, breathing softly into Tyelkormo’s hair and holding him protectively. _I’ll never be too old for this,_ Tyelkormo smiled, drifting off into blessed oblivion a few heartbeats later.

***

They could give their horses free rein without fear of being led astray. The animals knew their way as well as their riders did and would carry them to the waterfall without any guidance. It was one of Tyelkormo’s favorite haunts, beautiful and secluded and with a cavern big enough behind the curtain of water to make it an ideal camping spot. With his brothers and his cousins, he had stayed there often enough to eventually furnish the place with essential supplies. Few others knew of the place and would hide themselves behind the waterfall, likely marking it as Feanorian property and never touching the bedrolls or wine-skins tucked at the back of the cave.

Tyelkormo had woken to a bed that still held some of his father’s warmth, but Fëanáro had pulled on his clothes and rushed to the kitchens, to arrange breakfast. Hungover and ruffled, Tyelkormo’s brothers had trickled in from their rooms, sipping tea and letting their stomachs settle before attempting to eat anything. Aikanáro and Angaráto had come last, wearing borrowed hunter’s garments and Tyelkormo’s stomach had clenched painfully at the sight of them. He’d known then that he and Curufinwë would ride out with their cousins and before long, their brothers made themselves scarce, allowing for no more evasive action.

Somewhat fed, but pale and with dark circles of unrest under their eyes, Angaráto and Aikanáro had let themselves be led to the stables and found their old mounts still there, nickering happily at the sight of them. _Even the horses have missed them_ , Tyelkormo had observed with another painful twinge. At his side, Curufinwë hadn’t ceased scrutinizing him for a moment, concern so plainly written on his face that Tyelkormo had been forced to pull him aside and reassure him that he was well and ready to speak with Angaráto.

That, of course, was an enormous lie, but Curufinwë had accepted it without protest and with a tight hug for Tyelkormo’s effort. They’d set out with very few supplies and a promise to Fëanáro that they would return before the day was out. As for the manner of his return, Tyelkormo could honestly not think that far. 

Few words had passed between the cousins as they rode and the horses had also picked the somber mood. They were restless, eager to be set free and allowed to graze without the burden of such unhappy passengers on their backs. Small-talk had become redundant and would be insulting, as each of them seemed lost in his own thoughts and they quietly tried to ready themselves for… for a confrontation. It would be a confrontation, Tyelkormo was certain of it and the shadows on his cousin’s somber face promised him renewed grief. But he would embrace it, he deserved every little bit of the bitterness swirling in Angaráto’s expressive eyes.

He was unsurprised when Curufinwë touched his arm and said that he and Aikanáro would talk _elsewhere_. With the roar of falling water drifting through the copse of trees they had entered, Tyelkormo nodded in silent agreement, watching his brother and their cousin nudge their horses back the way they had come. At his side, Angaráto’s horse stomped and snorted, clearly infected with the rider’s restlessness. Aikanáro and Curufinwë rode away and with a terrible ball of dread in his stomach, Tyelkormo turned to his cousin. They were finally alone.

***

“I have missed you.”

“Do you hate me, cousin?”

They both spoke at the same time, breaking the heavy silence between them. Close by, the waterfall tumbled merrily into the round pool at the foot of the cliff and through it, Laurelin’s light came muted, safe for small shafts of brilliance so strong it hurt the eye to look at. Side by side and shoulders touching, Tyelkormo and Angaráto sat propped against the cold stone, staring ahead because it was easier than to look in each other’s eyes.

“Hate you, Turko? I could never hate you. I tried, believe me… but there _is_ no hating you,” Angaráto said and Tyelkormo’s shoulders sagged in relief, although by all means, he should have welcomed the hate if there had been any. “Do _you_ hate me?”

“What? No. Why would I?”

“For… for listening to you, Turko. For _leaving_.”

“Oh, gods…I hate _myself_ , Angaráto. I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Tyelkormo said and inside him, something gave way, freeing him from the burden of the long due apology. 

“No sorrier than I am.” 

They fell silent again, but the air was heavy not merely with mist from the falling waters, but with many unspoken things. Then, Tyelkormo started and his shoulders grew rigid when Angaráto took his hand and cradled it gently between his own hands. From somewhere deep in the well of memories that Tyelkormo had slammed a heavy lid on, he recalled the strength of those hands and the day when quarrel between them had earned Angaráto his epessë. They had shouted and turned on one another for some small, unimportant reason and it had come to blows because Angaráto had so little of his parents’ calm and patient nature. He had smashed his fist against Tyelkormo’s jaw and ‘strong Finwë’ though he was, Tyelkormo went down and lay unconscious for a good long while. Bruised and concussed, he had called his cousin Angamaitë and although the name shamed Angaráto deeply for a while, he had grown to love it. And Angaráto’s iron-strong hands could do so much more than bring pain… _so much more._

Breath catching, Tyelkormo wrenched himself from the memory and looked down at his hand. His fingers did not tremble under the warm touch, but only because the tremors had settled into the pit of his stomach instead.

“Where is the ring, Turko? You are not wearing your betrothal ring,” Angaráto caressed the ring-free finger in question.

“I… No, I am not wearing it. Not yet. People are not supposed to see it and start spreading rumors. Grandfather means to make the announcement before the whole family and at court, I suppose. Until then, Irissë and I have agreed to keep the rings hidden.”

“That’s not right… is it?”

“No, but we have more than ourselves to think about.”

“But it’s not the only reason you are not wearing the silver ring, is it, Turko?”

Tyelkormo risked a quick look at his cousins’ face, fearing his expression but also wanting to see it. Angaráto’s eyes were averted and with a sigh, Tyelkormo looked away.

“No, it isn’t,” he admitted.

“You didn’t want me to see it?”

Angaráto’s voice was low and surprisingly steady, although it can’t have been easy for him to speak and push past the awkwardness between them, after such a long stretch of absolute silence.

“That’s not… It doesn’t matter if you see it or not. It’s just a ring. Beautiful, like everything atar makes, but…”

“But your father doesn’t really want you to go through with this, does he?”

“He said that to you?” Tyelkormo turned in surprise, although Fëanáro had hinted as much.

“He didn’t have to say it. He urged me to seek you out, _now_ of all times.”

“You’re right. Father has never spoken against my relationship with Irissë, but I believe he would sooner have me free than bound. And he is not the only one.”

“Curufinwë?” Angaráto said and Tyelkormo caught the bitter smile that curved his lips for a moment.

“Yes. He is adamant that I should not wed. He doesn’t want me to do as he has done and… oh, Eru, your own brother must still be unhappy, I saw it in his eyes. How does Aikanáro fare?”

“He… _lives_. He is well, but listen, Turko! I don’t want to be like him. I can’t, I don’t have his selflessness or the power of self-sacrifice that he possesses. I don’t want to teach myself how to live with the regret and to do nothing while you are irrevocably taken from me!”

Tyelkormo snatched back his hand and covered his face with both palms. There it was… exactly what he had feared the most and what a fool he had been to think Angaráto would loathe him. It would have been so much easier to face anger and resentment but instead, Angaráto was saying that he… that he…

“Have you not missed me at all?” Angaráto turned toward him and pried Tyelkormo’s hands away from his face.

“Oh, Angaráto… _Every day_ ,” Tyelkormo admitted with a shuddering sigh, averting his eyes because he could not face Angaráto’s intense scrutiny. “But Irissë… she… I love her. She makes it better.”

Tyelkormo could feel Angaráto flinching, but his cousin did not turn away, nor did he release his hands.

“Of course she does,” he retorted bitterly. “She wants to bind you to her and to make you forget me.”

“It’s not like that!”

“But what, then? You have not sought me out, not even once! You haven’t sent word to me and spent all these years pretending I don’t exist! You looked through me every time we met at feasts and you hid behind her as though she were your last defense. At first I thought you hated me or despised me for being such a weakling and a fool. But I am not stupid. I _know_ she keeps you from me and would make you forget even my name if she could!” Angaráto cried out, his voice raw with unbridled emotion.

“No! That is not true. Irissë doesn’t even know how much I love you!”

Angaráto gasped and withdrew, staggering to his feet. Disbelief, pain and longing warred on his face and in his wide eyes. Beneath that wild stare, Tyelkormo also raised himself, leaning against the wall at his back for support and shocked by his own admission. How easy it had been wrung from him and how very true it was that he still loved Angaráto, no matter how many times he had warred with himself against it.

“Why?” Angaráto cried out over the roar of the waterfall and the blood pounding in Tyelkormo’s ears. It could have meant anything… why had Tyelkormo not told Irissë? Why had he treated that love as though it was unimportant and deserved nothing but to be expunged? Why had he turned Angaráto away and shut him out of his life? Why all the pain and the loss and denial?!

“Because I love her,” Tyelkormo croaked in reply, his throat closing on the words.

He didn’t have time to react and would have done nothing to stop Angaráto from backhanding him roughly.

“Liar!” his cousin shouted. “Coward!” he cried and another open-handed blow landed on Tyelkormo’s other cheek.

Tyelkormo braced himself against the wall and was dimly grateful that he could blame the tears in his eyes on the pain that bloomed on his cheeks. But it was nothing compared to the heartache and shame that made him squeeze his eyes shut and issue a strangled cry.

“No, look at me!” Angaráto sprang on him and gripped his chin. “Look at me, Turko! How dare you do this to me?! How dare you love me and push me away?! How… how can you do this to _yourself_?”

His jaw clenched and held forcefully, Tyelkormo could do little else but look into his cousin’s wild eyes and receive what he saw in there with the weight of a death sentence. Nothing he could say or do would repair the damage he had caused and the hate would come on the hot trail of Angaráto’s anger. The loathing and the hate would douse them soon and end the struggle. It had to!

But Angaráto let his eyes fall shut and in a swift motion, pressed the length of his body against Tyelkormo’s, pinning him to the wall. He lowered his head and pressed his face into the crook of Tyelkormo’s neck, inhaling deeply and making a savage noise in his throat. 

“You’re mine!” he growled, bearing on Tyelkormo even harder, ignoring his feeble struggles and Tyelkormo knew he had never felt so helpless his whole life. 

“No…,” he moaned, but gods, how pathetic it sounded and how untrue when his body came to life against his will and against the hard muscles holding him so effectively in place. He felt how aroused Angaráto had become, in spite of the pain and the anger that had simmered unresolved for so long. He felt him and he needed him in a way that Tyelkormo’s body remembered all too well. He tried to push back the oppressive weight and the heat that seared him with such ease, but to no avail. Angaráto would not give way and as he lifted his head, his hips pressed harder against Tyelkormo’s, bringing them into unbearable closeness even through their clothes.

“You still love me. You still want me, you bastard!” Angaráto growled, his voice thick and dangerous. “I can feel it. You _need_ me, damn you!”

Tyelkormo opened his mouth to say something, he knew not what and would never know, because lips closed on his and crushed the very breath out of him. He tried to struggle, and somewhere inside him, his conscience tore apart with an anguished scream, scalding him with bitterness and self-loathing. But it lasted only a moment, a brief inner struggle that he lost even as his lips parted under the invasion and he drew Angaráto in as avidly as one drinks when parched. 

Desire so strong washed over him that had he not been caught against the wall, Tyelkormo’s knees would have buckled and he would have crumbled. He still crumbled, and moaned in his cousin’s mouth, clutching Angaráto’s shoulders and, for a moment, he felt as though he might still find the strength to push him away. But Angaráto rolled his hips and growled again, his kiss so rough and so possessive that Tyelkormo’s jaw ached. He’d been struck and he was plundered and only very dimly, his pride stirred against such treatment. But that too faded into desperate need and his hands found their way into Angaráto’s hair, clutching it in fistfuls and pulling Angaráto closer.

Panting harshly on Tyelkormo’s lips, Angaráto drew back enough to tear the front of Tyelkormo’s tunic, snapping the laces and baring Tyelkormo for his hungry mouth. He latched onto the column of his cousin’s throat and with a breathless moan, Tyelkormo forgot he had ever known the word _resistance_. Hands still caught in his cousin’s hair, he pressed his head closer and arched into that hot mouth, hissing when teeth closed over his nipples or sucked possessive tattoos on his skin.

Angaráto slowly dropped to his knees, pushing fabric out of the way and giving the hard bulge in Tyelkormo’s breeches a none-too-gentle squeeze. Tyelkormo looked down at him through eyes already fogged by lust and groaned when Angaráto mouthed his length through the fabric. Then, in swift and sure movements, Angaráto freed his erection and Tyelkormo slid to the back of his throat with a keening cry. With that mouth working him into painful arousal, Tyelkormo let go of foreign notions such as ‘no’ and ‘stop’ and ‘we cannot’. Angaráto _could_ and he knew it, his head bobbing up and down and the way Tyelkormo saw his length sliding over his ripe lips was enough to drive him mad with lust.

Moaning low in his throat when he began to taste Tyelkormo’s climax – and against the way Tyelkormo clutched the sides of his head, perhaps – Angaráto let him go and stood before Tyelkormo, licking his lips. Such was the hunger for him in the blue turned a deep indigo of Angaráto’s eyes, that Tyelkormo reached out for him and pleaded. He knew not what he was begging for, but his cousin stripped himself of his clothes and then helped Tyelkormo shed his as well, pushing him down the moment he was naked. 

There might have been bedrolls at the back of the cave and salve or oil, as all of the brothers had made good use of the natural hiding place. But neither Tyelkormo nor Angaráto remembered that. They were too taken up with the exquisite feeling of being pressed together, skin on skin, heat stoked to such heights between them that Tyelkormo felt nothing of the cold stone beneath his back. 

They kissed savagely, panting harshly on each other’s lips and grinding against one another with bruising force. There was nothing gentle about their love-making, only urgency and iron hands gripping flesh with punishing strength. Angaráto crawled up Tyelkormo’s body and presented him with an erection flushed dark. Tyelkormo propped himself on his elbows and parted his lips for that hot column of flesh, humming with satisfaction when Angaráto called his name brokenly. 

But he was not allowed to lick and to tease. Angaráto cupped the sides of his head and drove himself into Tyelkormo’s mouth, muttering something about being slicked well. Knowing what came next, Tyelkormo shuddered and twitched impatiently, giving Angaráto a wanton smile when his cousin drew back and tried to master his disappointment as his cock slid out of Tyelkormo’s mouth.

Angaráto knelt between his spread legs and pulled Tyelkormo after him, turning him and then propelling him down on all fours. Tyelkormo’s hair fell over his shoulder and he looked back at Angaráto, arching his spine enticingly and spreading his legs in silent invitation. It would hurt, he hadn’t been mounted in a long while and Carnistir was always such a meticulous lover, never forceful and always making Tyelkormo plead if he wanted more. But Angaráto would not be gentle or patient or meticulous in preparing him, no… He was too wounded and too desperate and Tyelkormo knew that he had earned every bit of the burning he would receive. He would enjoy it too, his own cock throbbed heavily between his legs in tense anticipation.

His breath hitched when Tyelkormo felt his cousin’s long fingered hands prying apart his buttocks and then he fought with himself to remain still when Angaráto’s tongue nudged his entrance. But he quivered and moaned wantonly, so gloriously slicked and breached, when fingers joined the tongue and pressed through the tight ring of muscles. Tyelkormo felt little discomfort, but oh so much pleasure, pressing himself back on the digits and crying out when they stroked him from the inside in efficient little stabs. Sweat broke out all over his skin and he arched his back in delight but a moment later, Angaráto pressed the head of his engorged cock past his cousin’s entrance and Tyelkormo growled between clenched teeth. And growled… and tossed his head back, crying out hoarsely when the burning grew and grew and gods, it hurt! But it hurt _good_ and he panted in appreciation when Angaráto’s thighs hit his buttocks. His cousin gave Tyelkormo only a moment to adjust, before pulling back slowly and then sheathing himself again. Tyelkormo moaned loudly, but not in protest, never in protest… He bucked against the searing invasion and clenched his abused muscles, making Angaráto curse gutturally and take his hips in an iron grip.

From there on, fire took over, roaring through Tyelkormo’s body and all but blinding him as he writhed and pushed back. Angaráto slammed into him hard and then harder still, taking him with the despair of too much unfulfilled longing. I didn’t matter that their knees scraped against the gritty cave floor and skin broke, it didn’t matter that bruises would blossom where Angaráto’s fingers drove into the creamy skin of Tyelkormo’s hips. It didn’t matter that there would be scratches on Tyelkormo’s back and strands of hair yanked from his scalp when, at the end, Angaráto looped his hair around one wrist and pulled hard. Nothing mattered, only pleasure, only need, only the savage coupling and the heaviness in their loins that drove them deep into madness.

Tyelkormo broke first with a primeval scream, so deeply possessed that he convulsed and spilled his seed from the internal stimulation alone. Shudders wracked his whole body and orgasm blinded him completely, folding his arms. He fell face down and atop him, Angaráto put all his weight behind a few punishing thrusts, splitting Tyelkormo open to his shattering orgasm. 

***

Later, when he could roll on his side and take note of how utterly dirty he was, Tyelkormo groaned and sucked in a deep breath. Dust and sand and drying seed coated his belly, his knees were raw and cut, droplets of blood blooming red on his skin. His lower half felt as though he had taken a beating and then he had been savagely plundered. But there was no pain. He’d gone to a place beyond trivial aches and pains.

Turning himself slowly on his back, Tyelkormo saw the one who had taken him there and his heart leaped out toward him. At the mouth of the cave, Angaráto stood on the very edge and cold water poured over him relentlessly. Naked and wet, he stood there, glorious as a god, his eyes dark with lust and his lips curved into a sensual smile. Tyelkormo’s stomach clenched at the beauty of him and although he would have sworn he could not stand, he leaped to his feet and crossed the distance between them, falling into Angaráto’s open arms. Tyelkormo hissed against the cold water, but his cousin kissed him deeply, distracting him until Tyelkormo was under the spray too and washed clean of their rough coupling. 

But before he could say anything, or rather, before his mouth was free to form words, Angaráto drew back with a groan of satisfaction and his erection stood between them, hard and full from a simple kiss.

“Come,” his cousin husked. “I want _you_ now.”

Stepping out of the spray and shaking himself, Tyelkormo shivered and blood slammed back into his loins so hard that his head swam for a moment. Before him, Angaráto had walked to the closest cave wall, leaving puddles of water in his wake. Palms laid flat against the rock and his wet hair tossed over one shoulder, Angaráto held his cousin captive with a sinful look. He spread his legs further apart and arched his back, hissing as his length brushed against cold stone.

“I need you inside me _now_ , Turko,” he said, and Tyelkormo had only a moment to acknowledge that he was damned and doomed, before he sprang and claimed what was his.


	11. FOR LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

“Do you think they’re alright back there?” Aikanáro asked, squinting up at Curufinwë.

“No. I’m sure they are not. It’s either come to blows by now or something else entirely, but we have to let them sort it out on their own.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… I’m worried about my brother.”

“I am worried about them _both_. It’s not just their province to be concerned about little brothers. It goes both ways. But there is only so much shielding them either of us can do and maybe we’ve been wrong to keep that up for so long.”

“You think so?”

Aikanáro wanted to raise himself and have a better look at his cousin’s face. Laurelin had come to the apex of brightness, bathing everything in a brilliant light and warmth that had made the two of them drowsy. Having ridden north for quite a long stretch (mostly to prevent rushing back to Angaráto and Tyelkormo and rescuing them from their emotional clash), they had finally watered their mounts in a stream that gurgled nearby and set them free to graze in the lush grasses.

Curufinwë sat propped against the trunk of an old apple tree and they had been shaded at first, but as the day grew, so had the heat and the intensity of light beneath a cloudless sky. From above them, the smell of ripe apples wafted on a gentle breeze from time to time and the horses would be delighted when presented with the small fruit. So would Aikanáro and Curufinwë have been, if they were not so lazy and content to relax on the grass. 

Aikanáro had spread himself on the grass at his cousin’s side, unlacing his tunic and basking in the warmth. Unsurprisingly, as soon as he and Curufinwë had ridden away from the other two, the palpable tension dissipated and even though there were many unspoken things between himself and Curufinwë as well, Aikanáro felt undeniably at ease in his company. He did still love his cousin deeply and had felt the pull to him just as strong as ever, but beyond the ache of knowing that Curufinwë was out of reach, there was the joy of being in his company again, and, for the moment, everything paled before it.

At some point, he did not know exactly when, his head had migrated from his rolled up cloak onto Curufinwë’s lap and it had been the most natural thing in the world for Curufinwë to free his hair from the braids and comb the wild locks with his fingers. There had shared a brief look of longing and misery, but they’d both hidden it behind wistful smiles and settled for the closeness that was intimate and yet not quite so. _Still_ , Aikanáro thought, it was better than nothing at all. 

“I do believe so. It shocked me, you know? And frightened me quite a bit, to see Turko so agitated and out of his depth. He hasn’t been this…I don’t know, this unhappy and torn since… Well, you know since when,” Curufinwë was saying.

“That actually eases my mind a little. Had I found your brother cool and in control of himself, I would have known that Angaráto is making a big mistake. I feared that he had deluded himself into believing Turko still cares for him, but it is not so.”

“Indeed not. Some things, it seems, cannot be erased by time and distance. Turko still loves your brother and truthfully, I am glad that the two of you have come.”

“You are?”

“Oh, Aikanáro… of course I am. We’ve missed you. All of us,” Curufinwë looked down at him with a soft little smile and Aikanáro sighed, closing his eyes under the feathery caress of his cousin’s fingers. 

“It goes without saying that we have missed you terribly.”

“I’m sorry,” Curufinwë murmured.

“So am I. But there was no other way. We had to leave. We couldn’t see you with…”

“I know…,” Curufinwë bowed his head and strands of his dark hair fell over his shoulder to tickle Aikanáro’s cheek and his neck.

“You do not want your brother to be wed to our cousin, do you?” Aikanáro asked, knowing that it was safer for both of them to discuss their brothers.

“No, I do not.”

“Neither does your father, I’ve gathered.”

“I don’t think he is opposed to it, but he also knows that in the long run, it might make both my brother and Irissë miserable. Friendship and sex are one thing. Marriage is something else entirely.”

“You would know...”

“I do. Which is why I don’t believe Turko and Irissë are meant for it. Although they _do_ love each other a great deal, there is no denying that.”

“How did it ever come to this, Kurvo? How did it ever change from friendship and adventure to something strong and serious enough to have my brother dismissed?”

Curufinwë’s hands stilled and grew stiff with tension for a moment, but he resumed the gentle caresses even as his head shook and he sighed, probably unsure about what had happened himself.

“I don’t know, cousin. I really don’t know. I can only speculate, because Turko won’t say much and even though it’s never been his nature to close himself off, he keeps his relationship with Irissë to himself, mostly. Only Carnistir could tell you more, he’s been closer to Turko of late and prying into his mind more often than not, but he will not breathe a word. He’ll not betray Turko’s confidence.”

“Tell me what you speculate, then. And Kurvo... I know this is prying on my part, but you have to understand that I am worried about my brother and I need to know how to help him.”

“Of course. I’ll tell you what I think about this relationship and the recent turn of events, too. But to begin with, I will admit that to me, Irissë has always been one of us, one of the boys. From the first time she came to us with Findekáno, she forbade us to treat her like a soft, blushing maiden. She’s anything but that, in truth. The better we knew her, the more like us she seemed. Loud, brash, demanding, wildly temperamental, strong and willful, until most of us truly forgot that she was a woman and we treated her as one of us,” Curufinwë chuckled softly in remembrance. 

“I know what you mean, I recall being rather shocked when we all traveled together and none of you spared Irissë any chores or your incredibly dirty humor.”

“Mmm. Her father and that prim little Turukáno might have been outraged and even atar shook his head at us sometimes, but I think he enjoyed thinking of Irissë as the daughter he never had. We all fairly much adopted her, like Findekáno before her and that would have been that, I think , if she hadn’t grown curious about other matters.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. I does make sense, though. Tirion is… the way it is. You can’t do anything there without someone looking over your shoulder. With us, Irissë was far more free and unrestrained. She’s always been closest to Turko out of us all and naturally attracted to him. I don’t know anyone who isn’t.”

“Really?” Aikanáro chuckled at the absolute conviction in Curufinwë’s voice.

“Yes, really. Don’t tell me you’re blind to him just because your brother loves him.”

“Well… ”

“Haha, exactly. Which is why I am not surprised that Irissë turned to him and she knew that he wasn’t exactly a virgin at the time. I suppose she thought it was best to see how it’s done with someone she trusted completely. And the next thing we knew, they disappeared together a lot. But I know for a fact that both of them had other lovers for a while and Turko was… he was with your brother at the time, too.”

“Yes. But from there to marriage it’s… a damned long way, Kurvo.”

“I wish I could tell you what changed and when. My guess is, when she grew more serious about him, Turko also grew more serious about her. We all care a great deal about Irissë, she is family and not just by blood, she has fully earned the affection. I think Turko’s feelings grew to more than that when he realized that Irissë saw him differently than she did us and began to expect more from him. Had she been someone else, I don’t believe my brother would have chosen between her and Angaráto, but because she is Irissë, our kinswoman and one of us, I think he felt he should treat her differently than any of his other lovers and that he should honor her love fully.”

“But Angaráto is one of us too,” Aikanáro whispered sadly.

“He is and he should have never been hurt so much, but Turko must have thought he was making the right choice. I told you, there is great love and a lot of attraction between him and Irissë, it’s not like anyone has forced their hand into becoming so close. As for why they are seriously considering marriage now, I might have my share of blame in that.”

“You?”

“Yes. I am married,” Curufinwë said, hesitating on the word. “I think Turko believes that if I could do it, if I could fall in love with a woman and pledge myself to her, then so should he. Especially since he is already in love with an amazing woman who deserves no less than to be honored above all others.”

“But that’s… absurd!” Aikanáro exclaimed, rising and tossing his hair back. He knelt at Curufinwë’s side and frowned. 

“Is it? Turko may think it’s time for him to bind himself to someone and have children too. He has probably been told by more than one person how he ought to be more serious and leave behind the numerous dalliances he’s had. Mother and grandfather might have chided him about this, albeit gently. I don’t know. Turko may feel that he is at a turning point now, where he either goes forward or not at all. But I suspect that he’s convinced himself this is the best chance he’s ever going to get at being a husband and a father and pledging himself to a woman not only worthy of him, but also worth all his love and respect. And that is what I think on the matter,” Curufinwë finished with a sigh.

For a few moments, Aikanáro did not know what to say, except to shout that it was foolish and absurd.

“I suppose Turko also thinks that everyone will wring his neck if he goes back on his word,” he blurted at last.

“Something like that,” Curufinwë admitted sadly.

“But we can’t let him go through with this! Nothing of what you’ve said is a legitimate reason to bind yourself to someone. They are forcing each other’s hand without even knowing it and they will be so miserable in the future, when it becomes clear to them that they are married for all the wrong reasons. We’ve got to stop them! Someone has to snap them out of this and show them that it’s wrong to marry because they think it’s time, or that there are no better mates or the family will turn on them if they change their minds!”

“I couldn’t agree more… And someone _is_ snapping Turko out of it as we speak, I think.”

“Do you believe my brother can get through all the defenses and all the madness in Turko’s head?”

“If he can’t, I doubt any of us will be more successful in the attempt. Unless atar thinks it’s time to take drastic measures. Turko will listen to him. But atar seems so adamant about winning Nolofinwë’s friendship these days that I don’t even know precisely where he stands and what he might do. Which is why Angaráto has to show my brother that there is a lot more to life than what he means to do with Irissë.”

“Like I should have shown you?” Aikanáro said abruptly, before he could think better of it and bite back the words.

Curufinwë started and gave him a deeply wounded look. But he said nothing, knowing that either yes or no would have been the wrong answers.

“I’m sorry, Kurvo. I should not have said that. No, listen. I don’t want to make you miserable. I care about you too much and if you are happy, that’s all the comfort I need,” Aikanáro said, hoping his voice was steady enough and wishing away the sadness in Curufinwë’s eyes.

“I _am_ happy,” Curufinwë replied almost inaudibly, his expression the complete antithesis of what he had said. “But not when I know how much I hurt you and how it pains you still.”

“Kurvo, don’t do this to yourself... Remember, _I_ chose to let you go. We parted at peace with one another and yes, I miss you and I will always love you, but there are more ways than one to love. I am not sorry that you have a wife who adores you. I saw what is between the two of you and… no, please listen to me. You should have many sons and daughters, Kurvo. You know…, when I felt heartbroken and missed you too much, I made myself wonder what if your father had chosen a male lover and not your mother? What if he passed by the chance to have you all? The world would be such an empty, miserable place without you and your brothers in it and it would be the same without the children that you will have. I cannot grudge your wife what she gives you, nor can I regret what might still be between us when I think of that.”

Aikanáro fell silent and took a deep breath, but he kept smiling warmly, proud of himself for how strong he was and how selfless. There and then, nothing else mattered to him but reassuring his cousin and it should have surprised Aikanáro, but it didn’t. He watched Curufinwë swallow the lump in his throat and avert his eyes, but his shoulders shook and a moment later, Curufinwë’s arms closed around him in an embrace so tight it squeezed the breath out of Aikanáro.

“I love you! Gods, I love you,” Curufinwë cried, holding him desperately. 

“And I you,” Aikanáro whispered, petting the dark head. “But shhh, don’t cry, Kurvo. Don’t be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Curufinwë said, his voice full of laughter _and_ tears. “I’m… I… Aikanáro, what have I done to deserve this kind of love from you?”

“How can anyone not love you this way, you mean. You just _are_ , cousin, there is nothing you need to do for my love but be _yourself_.”

Curufinwë pulled back and his breath hitched, but he smiled brilliantly despite the tears that trickled down his cheeks. He cupped the sides of Aikanáro’s head and pressed their mouths together in a kiss that was both chaste and yet not, but full of emotion words could not express.

“No, love. Stop,” Aikanáro whispered on his cousin’s lips, their foreheads pressed together. “Let’s not tempt fate too much.”

Curufinwë sighed and sat back, closing his eyes and still smiling the most wondrous smile Aikanáro had ever seen. He wiped the tears from Curufinwë’s cheeks gently, touched that beloved smile and then took his cousin’s hands in his own.

“Don’t be sad, Kurvo. Don’t _ever_ be sad.”

“I won’t,” Curufinwë replied softly, his voice still watery and unsteady. “I have no right to be sad when you are so wonderful to me. But Aikanáro… please promise me you won’t stay away from me for so long again. I didn’t even know how empty my life has been without you in it until now… until you came back.”

It was Aikanáro’s turn to spring forward and hug his cousin tight.

“Oh, Kurvo… I wanted to come. I wanted to so many times, but I couldn’t. Not just for Angarato’s sake, but for yours as well. He needed me by his side, I was the only one who understood his pain, but I didn’t want to be in your way either.”

“Never!” Curufinwë whispered fiercely.

“I won’t be a stranger anymore, I promise.”

“Please! Because I need you. We can still love each other, cousin. It hurts more if we don’t!”

“Oh, Curufinwë… I will be here for you,” Aikanáro promised and somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that there would be times when he would curse himself bitterly for giving his word. But Curufinwë was right, it hurt more to be away from him than to be close, just one day by his side had proven it beyond doubt. 

“I know it won’t be easy, Aikanáro… believe me, it’s so very hard for me too, but we don’t have to sacrifice _everything_ between us. We should not abandon everything, I would still be your friend and hope that you can confide in me again. We should still share each other’s joys and pains and nothing, nothing at all should ever take that from us.”

“Nothing, you’re right. We should not run from each other. We have returned to Tirion now and I don’t mean to leave anytime soon. You and I… we deserve friendship at the very least and we will have it, Kurvo. We’ve always been such a great team, you and I. We will be so again. And we must. We have our brothers to save from a terrible fate after all, don’t we?”

***

As the day slowly drew to a close and they made their way back to the waterfall, Aikanáro’s contentment vanished and he could see much worry in Curufinwë’s eyes as well. They retrieved their brothers’ horses first and fettered all four mounts, before climbing up to the cave, ears strained for a clue as to what happened inside. But of course, the waterfall muted any and all other sounds and so, the cousins carefully crept in and leaned against one another as they took the first, very anxious peek inside.

Sure enough, they found their brothers at the back of the cave, huddled together under a blanket, crying and saying incomprehensible things to each other. They jumped like startled rabbits and wiped their faces hastily, under Aikanáro’s and Curufinwë’s slack-jawed scrutiny.

Angaráto extricated himself from Tyelkormo’s arms and strode toward his brother, still sniffling and rubbing his eyes, utterly unconcerned that he was naked and his body bore _many_ sings of what he and Tyelkormo had been up to. Aikanáro groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, but his lips twitched in an involuntary smile when his brother suddenly _beamed_ through his tears and circumvented the arms held out for him in favor of splashing some water on his heated cheeks. 

“Well… I’m glad to see that the two of you are _alive_ , at least…,” Curufinwë observed dryly.

“Barely,” Aikanáro muttered, watching Tyelkormo stagger to his feet and wobble to his little brother. As he got closer, Aikanáro could see that not only Tyelkormo’s eyes were puffy and red, but also both sides of his face. He heard Curufinwë gasp when Tyelkormo let the blanket fall and walked to Aikanáro without a word, holding onto him as he stepped completely under the spray.

“Oh, gods… he looks like he’s been mauled by a huge, angry cat!” Curufinwë gaped, his eyes widening at the sight of his brother and then narrowing at a suddenly very flustered Agnaráto.

“I’m sorry…,” Aikanáro heard his brother say, but clearly, he was not the least bit sorry and his time alone with Tyelkormo had been more than satisfactory, albeit the obvious signs of violence. It was also not the first time he had seen the two of them in a state after frantic love-making and he hoped it would not be the last time either.

“Oh, shut up! And clean yourselves, both of you! There should be some salve in here. We’ve got to patch you two up and I don’t even want to know how you’ll stay on horseback. But you can’t go home like this!” Curufinwë barked the orders, finding it easier to bristle at the two and treat them as miscreants than to ask them how they felt and how things had changed between them.

For the time being, Aikanáro was of like mind and followed his cousin to the back of the cave, both of them gingerly sidestepping traces of the strenuous activity the cave had seen before their arrival. As he glanced back, Aikanáro saw his brother and his cousin with their arms around each other, locked in a kiss that had surely made them forget they were not alone. _Good_ , he told himself. _It was about damned time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I would write the infamous C&C in tears (unless they were tears of grief and loss and those I am sure they have shed unnumbered), but I think love they know they do not quite deserve at the moment would also overwhelm them and bring tears to their eyes. And, as Gandalf likes to say, not all tears are an evil. :D


End file.
